Child of Midnight, Child of Dawn
by WareTheVenom
Summary: An attempt to chart what drove King Balor to agree to the forging of the Golden Army, and the history behind his children's relationship. Here, circa 300AD, Princess Nuala believes she is the only child of King Balor; lonely and little understood she dreams a strange dream. DISCLAIMER: I do not claim any ownership over the Hellboy 2 stuff. M for strong violence, a sex scene, incest
1. Prelude: The Princess

"Thus I relieve thee, my creator…thus I take from thee a sight which you abhor. Still thou canst listen to me and grant me thy compassion. By the virtues which I once possessed, I demand this of you…On you it rests, whether I quit forever the neighbourhood of man and lead a harmless life, or become the scourge of your fellow creatures and the author of your own speedy ruin."

- Quote, The Creature, Mary Shelley's **_Frankenstein_**

The Prophecy:

_The love you let them share will kill you, as it killed her._

_You will choose one to keep, and one to send away; one to love, one to leave._

_Their love will destroy your world and all you care for, sending innocence to flight before your eyes tell you it is too late._

_A love for a love and a death for a death._

_Your beloved world torn apart by your legacy and their regret._

**Prelude:**

_**The Princess**_

It's true that nothing in my life has ever gone as it should have. I was supposed to be the one that lived, loved, and was happy. Yet we are bound too strongly for that, and his fate is forever connected to mine. How do you stop the one whose life is your life? How do you stop the one you love above all others? Perhaps our king should have foreseen more of this than he did, but then again perhaps that would have been impossible. After all, my imprisonment in the haven of beauty and light has been just as much a torture as his self-imposed exile.

So much effort was expended to keep us apart, to stop the realisation of our connection. But, I believe, our stars were crossed at our conceptions, and the love we feel is as unbreakable as the bond that links our lives. Yet I would not change any of this for the world, because the idea of living without him is as abhorrent to me as our love is to others. Would I wish him to be free to love another, to risk their life with his darkness? Of course not, but this is not my true reason for wanting this twisted reality. No, I want him no matter what, even if our love is star-crossed; my unwillingness to let him go is the one selfishness I will allow myself. I suppose that is our one similarity. From then on, we are opposites, the light to the darkness, the warmth to snow.

There is no one to blame, not even ourselves, for these many cruel twists of fate that have brought us to this point. This world we love is under threat from all sides – not only from those who know nothing of us, but from within, from the most beloved and me, and for him, there can be no happy ending. Either way our world seems doomed to be destroyed, whether by guilt or by the unstoppable force of ignorance. Either way we shall lose, and in so doing shall doubtlessly lose each other.

After so many years separated, not knowing each other, I suppose something of the meaning of our official relationship was lost to us, or maybe we were always fated to feel this way. I do not see how we cannot love, eternally linked as we are. So, I suppose it is just my fate, as Nature has decided it, that I should love him in this way and discover that he is indeed my true love. No matter how hard I try to run from my feelings, I cannot escape his influence no more than he cannot love me. We are bound, as closely as if we were one. Yes, it is our fate to love this way.


	2. The Dream Tree

**The Dream Tree**

The stars were brighter out there by the sea, glistening off the restless obsidian water like hundreds of shards of glass caught beneath the surface. She would often stand out there alone, looking up at the perfect night sky, wondering at the magnificence of the world around her. Beauty was everywhere for Nuala, even in the darkest places. After all, for someone brought up to know no sadness, who had never been subject to cruelty, injustice, or malice, harsher views of life were alien to her.

Little orbs of light appeared to drift through the air nearby, some swooping close to the Elvish princess in their midst, while others flitted among the trees behind her, and a few took to spiralling up into the night sky with the tinkling of eager, giddy laughter.

Upon closer inspection, the lights took on a more definite shape. These were fairies, tiny little spindly-limbed humanoid creatures, some no larger than the pebbles on the beach. Their skin was silvery-grey, the little tufts of hair on their heads of a perfect white, and they dressed in garments fashioned from petals and grass stems. The luminous, rainbow-shaded haze around them was in fact their wings, buzzing furiously through the air to keep them aloft.

Nuala paid them no heed, for the fairies were fickle and untrustworthy, enjoying the

misfortune of others as much as they loved to aid them. These little sprites were loyal to only one master; the princess's father, the Elvish king, Balor. They dwelled among the trees of his realm, often acting as messengers or even spies. Of course, they were no threat to Nuala, who had nothing to hide, not a single secret to keep for herself. Perhaps that was the very reason her life was not as carefree as it should have been.

The princess would spend hours during the day wandering through the forest, the silent spirits there her only companions. Much of the rest of her time was taken up with caring for the world around her, whether that be helping her kin or tending to the other life among the trees. Yet despite this, she felt a constant sense of missing something, almost as if she were somehow not whole. Her wanderings were not just taken to get away from the other elves, but they increasingly felt more like a search, an attempt to find something. More than that, she felt like something was forcing her to search, not a compulsion from a separate entity, but as if a part of her knew how to give her what she wanted the most, and how to find it.

Every day, her walks would bring her to the same place, an ancient oak tree whose long-reaching branches kept the rest of the forest from encroaching on its space, leaving a wide ring of emerald grass and violets free in the dappled light. Nuala had first discovered the place over a year earlier, and under the most unusual circumstances – even for a princess who, with one touch of her hand, could learn the memories, history or unguarded thoughts of all around her. Continuing to stare up at the stars, she smiled slightly to herself as the memory came back, for although it was not entirely a comfortable one, it filled her with warmth and an inexplicable happiness.

* * *

_One year earlier_

The world around her was hazy, not quite familiar, the usually vivid colours were faded, shapes more extreme than normal, and often leaves would appear to melt into each other, or sprout whole trees of their own. It was for these reasons that Nuala knew she was dreaming, although, despite the surreal scenery, everything seemed so very real.

She was walking quickly through the forest, but her movements were not familiar – she did not have control over the body she was in, and it was then that she realised this was no normal dream. Unlike the ordinary, where even if she dreamed of being someone else she would feel she really were that person, Nuala was very definite that she was a separate entity from the one whose eyes she was seeing through. She did not know _who _he was, only that he was male, and of her kind.

Though this unknown person's movements were not familiar to her, they did not seem strange, or awkward, though she felt every move as if it were her own. His walk was silent and swift, drifting through the surreal trees with a fluidity that amazed the princess. He was headed somewhere specific, and Nuala had the sense that this place was one the elvish man loved – there was just one word accompanying this thought: peace.

Soon the trees fell away to reveal one large old oak, splendid in the moonlight, its long branches creating a ring of fully open ground. This was the only part of the scenery in the dream which seemed at all realistic – in fact, when the man's eyes turned to the oak, Nuala had the feeling that this was not truly imagination. The tree was real; she knew that.

The man through whose eyes she was seeing sighed, and the sound was one of frustration. He strode quickly to the tree trunk and flung himself down to sit among the roots. Fairies drifted over to hover by his face, staring at him with inquisitive little faces, but he batted them aside and they soon stayed away. Such unkindness – however harmless – upset the princess, and she felt herself longing to reach out and console the little creatures. Still, this was not her body; she was just a visitor in this man's life.

After a moment it became clear to Nuala that the man was muttering to himself; repeating a scene angrily over and over again. It sounded like he was a warrior, and he had made a mistake during fighting practice that would have cost his life on the battlefield. Eventually, his thoughts cleared as realisation over what he had done wrong came to him. He sighed again, only this time in triumph, and brought his fist down against the roots beside him.

Pain shot through his hand; through _her _hand too, and the princess cried out in surprise at the vividness of the feeling, while the man simply flinched, glancing down at one icy white hand. Already a bruise was forming on the knuckles of his right fist, and he carefully flexed his fingers, berating himself again. Then Nuala realised the man had not been speaking out loud at all – she had been listening to his thoughts.

Still moving his injured hand as the pain dulled to an ache, the man leaned back against the tree and stared up at the silver-tinged leaves whispering in the breeze over his head. He sighed for the third time – only this time out loud – and Nuala sensed an overwhelming feeling of loneliness within him, the exact same way her thoughts would turn when she was left to herself.

This man was not exactly unhappy, and his outlook on the world was somewhat neutral, only seeing a small part of the beauty that the princess would see. It was as though the years of fighting and even longer without real companionship had numbed him. He wanted to see the forest the way he had when he was a child, to love nature the way he had done. He was afraid that he was losing his emotions; he wanted, above all else, to _feel._

The others teased him about his apparently solitary nature, his fierce determination to be the best of the warriors. They laughed at how he had never returned the affections of the young maids that loved so much to gather nearby in the would-be secret hope of watching the fighters practice.

Nuala knew how he felt, for her life had taken an equivalent path, only she had retained the ability to love the world around her as she had been brought up to do so. She wanted to help this man, but she didn't know how, because she did not know how to help herself. In those brief moments she had felt as though this unknown man was both her total opposite and a kindred spirit.

The dream world began to fade away then, and it was with a feeling of reluctance that the princess allowed herself to fully awaken. When she did it was to the morning chorus of birds in the trees above her. She was lying in her bedroom in the Elvish palace, with a gentle breeze drifting through the window beside her.

Dazedly, she sat up slowly, and gasped as pain flashed through her right hand. Shocked, she looked down and saw a large bruise on the knuckles there. For a long moment she just stared at the injury in confusion. Surely she would have noticed it if it had happened the day before, or even during the night? Then a new thought came to her: had she influenced her dream by accidentally harming herself, or had the dream somehow influenced her? Had it been a dream at all? If not, what _was _it?

Her thoughts spinning, the princess flung aside the thin sheet of her bed, and stood swiftly. She watched as her vision adjusted, the spacious, pale room tilting at odd angles before levelling out to normal. Once dressed, she paused at the mirror set among the draperies covering the walls.

Nuala regarded herself not out of vanity, but surprise. Superficially she looked just the way she had the day before – her skin was the same icy white, her hair, which reached, perfectly straight, to her shoulders, was almost as pale as that, darkening to a slight gold at the tips. She had always viewed herself as typical of her elvish kin, with angular features and a slender build, though her large, round eyes were perhaps a more vivid shade of ochre than the ordinary. The area around her eyes was naturally a pale red that somehow only enhanced her beauty in the eyes of those around her. However, the princess was entirely innocent to that particular way of viewing her.

It was not her overall appearance that was cause for her surprise, but her expression. She looked…not happy, but almost so, her lips almost curving upwards into a gentle smile. Her eyes shone with emotion, though streaks of tears glistened on her cheeks. Not immediately remembering why she might have been crying during the night, the princess thought back to her dream and remembered the man's callous treatment of the fairies. That had horrified her, though he had not actually made contact with a single one of the little troublesome creatures. Despite this, her memories of the dream came back in full then, and she gasped automatically, bringing the bruised part of her hand up to her cheek.

"I will help you," she vowed quietly, speaking not truly to herself, but aiming her words to that young Elvish man in her dream, for she was absolutely certain he was real, "I feel those things, too."

Nuala wasted no more time in pondering what she had seen, and hurried to the other side of the room, opening the pale wooden door there, and left her chambers. Beyond her rooms, a wide, closely-knit archway of emerald leaves served as the corridor through to the rest of the palace – much of which was constructed in a similar, natural way.

The skirt of her pale blue dress swished lightly over the flower-dotted ground as she turned to the left, out of the main hallway of vines that led to the rest of the palace. This direction of her walk did little to gain the stares of other elves strolling together enjoying the morning sun, for the princess rarely did spend the day in the palace. Her preference for solitude was much talked of however, and speculated upon.

Nuala's pace became swifter as she crossed through the vast, colourful expanse of the Elvish gardens. The forest was soon around her, shafts of golden light pouring down to the grass-covered ground, which shimmered with morning dew. Musical laughter drifted through the trees from somewhere nearby, a familiar sound that signified the other elves were already up, the youngsters playing among the leaves.

A soft buzzing alerted the princess to the presence of fairies flitting along beside her, whispering to one another with high voices not quite hushed enough to keep their suspicion of her behaviour a secret. They kept pace with her easily, soon giving up the act of evading her gaze and zooming ahead of the Elvish princess, only to loop back and spin around her, giggling mischievously.

Nuala paid the fairies no heed, raising her skirts a little from the ground as her walk sped almost to a run. She could feel an unfamiliar urgency to find the place in her dream, and the deeper among the trees she went, the stronger that pull became. Confused by her feelings, but wanting to find the place she knew was nearby, she followed that pull, a sensation almost of something wrapping around her and reeling her in. Despite knowing that going along with this might well prove a foolish thing indeed, she continued onwards.

Eventually, the pull vanished as the princess stumbled into the very same circular clearing she had seen in her dream. It was just as splendid in the sunlight as it had appeared by the illumination of the moon, and she stopped a moment to catch her breath and take in the view. After a moment, she brought her left hand up to face outwards, as if touching the air, and she sensed passed feelings of frustration, triumph and loneliness.

"He was here," she whispered softly, approaching the grand oak ahead of her almost tentatively.

Before she could reach the centre of the clearing and touch the bark of the trunk, a tiny fairy fluttered around her to hover in front of her face. Its wings, that glowed pure white, folded as she put her hand out and it landed in her palm, so light she could not feel its presence there at all. She could not catch a single thought from its head – this fairy was being very careful to guard its thoughts from her detection, and it looked up at her with tiny, pale eyes.

"You were the one," Nuala stated, referring to the fairy at which the man had hit out.

The little creature nodded, then brought a hand up to signal politely for the princess's silence so it could speak, its reedy voice almost too high to hear, "He is not cruel, Lady, and I know that is the answer to the question you would have asked me. He speaks to us not, even less than you, preferring the silence of the night forest to the cheer of the day."

"Then he is not content?"

"No, my Lady, and nor are you," then the fairy was gone, fluttering back to its companions within the forest, leaving the princess to herself.

When she reached out to touch the trunk of the oak at the centre of the clearing, Nuala expected to sense much of the recent past, to learn more of who the man was. Instead, visions of her own dreams flooded back to her, accompanied by many profound memories, full of sadness, longing and loneliness. This was not just her life, she realised, it was the man's, too. They were so similar, at least in the emotions that they felt, and this only helped to strengthen her resolve to help him. Perhaps he would not want her help, or it could take hundreds of years to discover him. Maybe he could sense her, too, and would seek her out even as she looked for him. Somehow she was absolutely certain they had to help each other.

* * *

_Back to the present_

She still had not found him. Though a year had passed since her discovery of the Dream Tree as she called it, the princess remained totally unknowing of who the man actually was. The dream she'd had of looking through his eyes had never come back, but she could sense his emotions every morning when she visited the oak. She also knew that he spent most of his nights just sitting there, watching the sky and feeling that same recurring loneliness and need for change.

Despite her resolution to somehow help him, Nuala had never summoned the courage to actually seek out the tree by night, when she knew he would be there. Many times she had almost gone, and then pulled back at the last minute, nervous, uncertain of whether he would accept her company.

So there she remained, watching the stars by the seashore and thinking of her own life, while he sat under the boughs of the oak and did the same. It occurred to her that he was probably there right at that moment, and that their thoughts might well be in perfect synchronisation, or at least matching each other's feelings perfectly.

"My Lady!" a high voice cried excitedly, breaking her train of thought with its urgency.

The princess spun around to see one of the fairies racing towards her through the air, waving its arms over its head frantically as it spun itself into a twirling stop. Breathlessly, it pointed back the way it had come, in the direction of the palace.

"What is it?"

"The…the king requires your presence immediately back at the palace. He has important news!"

Upon hearing those words, Nuala's heart leapt in her chest and she could not help the fearful thoughts that came to her mind. Was the forest in danger, and if so, what from?

Without another word, the princess set off back through the trees again, her Elvish sight making it just as easy to see in the darkness as it would be in the daylight. It was not long before she was heading back across the palace gardens, silent as they were in the silvery veil of night. She passed through into the palace from there, an inwardly ostentatious building that was only visible from the outside as nothing more than a tight weave of bushes and trees.

Golden carvings and colourful paintings adorned the marble walls of wide, gilded corridors, and intricate tapestries hung within many of the larger rooms. None of this grandeur even made its way into Nuala's consciousness as she hurried through the palace. After a short while, she came to a vast, circular antechamber with a roof of leaves, but walls and floor of silver-veined black stone. She descended the curved white stairway that led to the chamber beyond, which she crossed without any opposition from the Elvish guards standing by the gateway ahead of her. They never ceased to unnerve her, shielded from head to toe as they were with armour of dark metal.

The gates opened smoothly ahead of her, and the princess stepped into the throne room beyond without pause as they clanged shut behind her. This long, rectangular hall was just as pale as the main part of the palace, with a golden roof overhead letting the moonlight through in tinted streams. The intricately carved, marble throne stood empty at the other end of the hall, and the guards remained, still and forbidding, along the walls nearby. It was an unusual sight for Nuala that the wooden stands reserved for the king's advisors were empty, but she knew the hours for such meetings were long since passed.

Eventually, the princess spied her father leaning thoughtfully against the rail of one of the stands, and she waited in patient silence for King Balor to be alerted to her presence. He was a tall figure, dressed in rich robes of red, white and gold, with wispy shoulder length white hair and a beard of the same colour. His skin was more tanned than his daughter's, his eyes closer to yellow than orange, something visible as he turned to regard her with an affectionate, and rather sad, smile.

"Ah, Nuala, my daughter. I am glad you came here so swiftly after I sent for you, I hope I interrupted nothing?" his deep voice, though quiet, still echoed audibly through the hall.

"No, of course not, father," she responded immediately, inclining her head in recognition of his concern, "What is it that you wish to tell me?"

"You know of the growing threat posed to our forests by the humans?" the king asked, and his daughter nodded, if unwillingly so.

"You told me they were unlikely to harm our lives, that they were weak."

"Yes, but their numbers grow every day, and so does their strength. They are beginning to encroach on our lands, and there is very little we can do to stop them," he sighed when Nuala looked up at him with horrified eyes.

"You do not mean…battle? B-bloodshed?"

"I fear it must be so, my daughter," he nodded gravely, and the princess looked away, shuddering, "No official state of war has been declared, but it will become so if the humans continue to enter our lands without permission, damaging Nature. We will only fight if our way of life is threatened, and will not actively go about the course of ourselves finding and…attacking the humans. I tell you this so that you may be…prepared. I know that you would wish to help tend to the wounded should there be any – which I hope there shall not."

The princess simply nodded at this, and her father regarded her forlornly. He had not wished to upset her, but there was no other way if she was to know the truth of what went on in the realm. Not wishing to disturb her further, he dismissed her from the throne room, and Nuala hurried to her chambers, bolting the door behind her.

This was even worse than she had expected; open threat to her way of life and to the world she loved so dearly. The idea of soldiers of either side being hurt was horrible for her to think of, but the survival of Nature and, overall, of life as well, was the most important thing to Nuala. She would tend the wounded if she was so needed, and mourn the dead of both sides if such an ill fate came to any of them.

As she lay down in her bed, closing her eyes but feeling that sleep would not take her when such horrors were uppermost in her thoughts, she heard the distant scrape of metal on metal. She almost opened her eyes in fear before realising that she had not heard the sound; it had entered her mind as if from far away. There it was again! A commotion, hurried voices, the gathering of weapons, the strapping on of armour…a whole group of Elvish soldiers readying themselves for battle.

Quiet voices were speaking hurriedly, one of which was familiar, and it was with a jolt that Nuala sensed one of them was the Elvish man who spent so many nights sitting under the oak tree. After all, he was an accomplished fighter, possibly one of the best in the realm. It was only natural that he should be among those chosen to go and defend the Elvish kingdom.

The swish of a blade moving through space with blinding speed, spinning the weapon around in one hand, gaining momentum, and then bringing it forward in a fast slice that seemed to cut the very air. He was practising, spinning around and around as if in intense combat, fighting imaginary foes. This was the move that he had been previously unable to accomplish: a flip through the air without leaving himself open to attack. He landed lightly, laughing in glee as he discovered he had finally perfected that particularly difficult manoeuvre.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the dream-vision was gone, and Nuala felt emptiness again. Breathing deeply, she stared at the night-darkened ceiling and felt even greater fear than before. What if the man was hurt in battle? Even worse, what if he was…_killed_? What would she do then? So much of her time had been spent considering different ways of helping him, and never once had it occurred to her that the opportunity to do so might go.

Even more necessary to her than the need to help him was, in order to feel peace of mind, the knowledge that he was safe, or at least unharmed. The idea of hurt ever coming to him was worse than anything else, perhaps even than the damage of her beloved forest. The intensity of that realisation was almost painful for her; she felt such a strong connection with the unknown man that the idea of his loss – why did she think of it that way? – was impossible to conceive. But what could she do? Her Warrior was heading into battle, and he might never come back.


	3. Stricken

**Stricken**

The moon was bright and full in the sky, its silvery rays glimmering through the light rain that had just begun. Clouds ghosted across its pallid surface but did nothing to darken the night, though they blocked out the stars. Fairies spun and wheeled through the air, dodging the raindrops and forming constellations of their own, twinkling brilliantly against the white-shot obsidian sky.

Throughout the forest other creatures were out among the trees, enjoying the night, and somewhere among the darkest corners lurked will o' the wisps, casting their malevolent light over imaginary trails. There was only one place none of the spirits and magical beings would go near – the circular clearing created by the ancient oak, where a silent one-man battle raged.

The Warrior was restless that night, tawny eyes blazing like fire in the silver light. He spun his sword around, flashing brilliantly as it sliced the air with a sharp whistle, continuing a practise routine that had been going on for some time. Despite themselves, many of the fairies had paused in their revelry to hover carefully among the closest trees, watching the vicious dance with mesmerised eyes.

It was not long before a group of the fairies stirred, uneasy, listening to the news that a new arrival to the scene brought to them. The warrior was by no means oblivious to this either, spinning his blade to a stop, glancing sidelong at the king's messengers warily.

"What is it?" he asked of the little creatures, and several fairies squealed in surprise at the sound, fluttering back into the darkness. Soon only five fairies remained in view: the group with the news.

"The humans have begun attacks on the borders," they told him, their voices more excited than fearful, "We believe King Balor intends to fight back."

"And that he shall," a new voice agreed, this one low, its tone grim, and a familiar armoured Elvish figure stepped unconcernedly into the clearing, the total opposite in all respects to the fairies. He was stocky for one of his kind, though still tall, his skin not as icy white as the Warrior's, his eyes paler and his shoulder length hair more yellow.

"Captain," the Warrior acknowledged, but it was the newcomer who bowed, and not he, the metal plates on the latter's leather armour clanking quietly as he moved.

"Gather your things, my lord…we set out at dawn."

"We are to fight," the Warrior stated, and though his voice was calm his eyes gleamed with fierce excitement. Yet…he did not feel as he had expected he would. There was a part of him that was not so eager to enter battle. It was not that he was afraid, or unwilling to kill for his kingdom; he feared neither pain nor death. Still, he felt apprehensive, as if this one fight would change his future and set it upon a more dramatic course. Did he want that? Could he risk it?

As he thought, he felt that familiar pull, tugging at him, trying to lead him into the northern half of the forest, to something that seemed to promise everything good he lacked. He had always resisted that urge, even the year before when it had been so strong there by the oak, wrapping him in warmth and urging him into those trees, to the half of the forest he had – almost – never been to. But he knew his duty, and unless the king decreed otherwise, he would remain in the south of the forest, away from the royal court. How ironic that it was his very heritage that ensured the monarch would keep it that way.

"My lord?" the captain asked, his voice holding surprise.

The Warrior realised that he had turned to the north, away from those in his presence. For a moment the wind blew down through the leaves, stirring his long hair around his arms, the golden ends of the otherwise white-blonde strands seeming to reach out in the direction his heart yearned to lead him in. Why? What lay that way? He could not trust it – he had already promised to trust none but himself – and so all he could do was fight it, continuing the only way of life he knew. With a sigh, the Warrior closed his eyes, calming his thoughts, and glanced over his shoulder at the captain, nodding once.

"All is well…for now," he told his companion, answering the worried tone that felt like so long ago after his strange thoughts. The Warrior moved towards the central oak, taking up his black tunic from where it lay among the roots.

"I cannot help thinking that something is wrong, or something will go wrong," he added quietly, pulling on the item of clothing he held and fastening a wide red sash around his waist. In swift, clearly familiar, movements, he also donned his leather armour and bracers, sheathing his sword in its place by his hip.

"What do you mean?" the captain asked sceptically as the Warrior joined him at the edge of the clearing.

"I do not yet know, my friend," came the sighed reply, as the speaker put a hand on the other elf's shoulder and they turned towards the southern trees and war, "I suppose time will determine that."

It had not taken long for the casualties to start arriving. The scenes of the skirmishes were all at least six day's journey away, and yet it had only taken twelve days for the injured to start arriving. Chaos reigned in the court of King Balor, with new arrivals coming almost every day. There were barely enough healers to tend for everyone, and the only positive side of the horrors was to realise that no one had actually died yet.

Princess Nuala wandered through the ranks of the fallen, her expression becoming more and more desolate as her eyes took in the scene. Most of the elves lying wounded there did at least have one of the hastily put up reed-weaved beds laid out in rows down the hall. Still, there were those who had come later, who were not so privileged, and they lay on the floor while new beds had to be made for them.

The once peaceful, clear, pale hall had become the bloodstained, sadness-darkened home of one endlessly echoing groan of pain. The light that continued to cascade through the huge, open window space did so little to cheer the place, and yet without it Nuala felt they would have no hope at all. She herself could find very little of that emotion as she gradually witnessed the horrible aftermath of battle. Every agony-twisted face haunted her, every wound, every used space in the hall, for it all signified the cruelty of life, proof that even those termed 'immortal' will die one day.

She wondered if she would recognise the Warrior if he were among the fallen. Would she somehow know his face among all the others? Would something else happen to her if he was injured – providing that he had not been already? Not for the first time, Nuala contemplated why she felt such a strong connection with the man from her dreams. Even if they were so similar in many of the emotions they felt, and certainly in how their lives had turned out, they were just as different in other ways. Where he planned to fight, she wished only to aid those around her, and where he felt anger, she felt only sadness. Besides, Nuala had feared the warriors of the realm from her earliest memories. They had always been kind to her, and yet all that they represented was horrible to her. War, death, pain…and her Warrior was out there doubtlessly killing like the rest of them.

From somewhere nearby there came a loud cry – not of pain, but of sadness – followed by fits of quiet sobs, and all eyes that could turned to see a young Elvish woman kneeling by the side of one of the soldiers, who lay still by her side. His figure was slowly changing, darkening to a uniform shade of sandy white, smoothing out and, as Nuala watched, the man's right arm, which had been hanging over the edge of the bed, was engulfed by the colour that signified death; morphing into stone. The limb snapped clean in two, crumbling to chunks of dusty stone as the rest of his body became a statue of solid marble.

What little hope there had been went with the death of that man, and for a brief moment, the hall was silent as the dust settled, save for the fragile sobs of the young Elvish woman being led gently away by a healer. Meanwhile, a group of guards headed towards the bed upon which the statue lay, lifting it carefully as the crumbled remnants of his arm were gathered together. Solemn faced, they were soon out of the hall, carrying their burden away with them.

Nuala stood and stared at the empty space left by the passing of that man, almost as unmoving as he had been in death. Silent, icy tears trickled slowly down her cheeks, but no one came to her side; they never had. The princess was 'cold', they were so used to her lack of emotion that none of the healers looked to see if the sight of death had affected her. She had never seen such a thing before…and as the sadness only built inside her, she never wished to see it again, and still she saw beauty even in such a tragedy. To become a statue, to never fade from memory, unlike the humans, was somehow fitting. That was a promise easily kept among the elves; he would never be forgotten. Still, that moment would haunt the princess's thoughts for all of her life.

* * *

They were everywhere, outnumbering the Elvish group by five to one. Swords were already wet with blood, the sun sending its harsh light to glitter upon razor sharp, serrated edges. These humans were skilled fighters, driving the much smaller group of elves back against the cliff face, blocking off their routes of escape. This wasn't just battle to them, they weren't the ones defending anything. This was sport.

Everywhere around there seemed to be elves falling, and for every companion that died, the Warrior's anger only grew. Only his own agility had saved him from a similar fate. His tunic and armour were torn in many places, yet he had sustained no injuries.

The humans seemed to have noticed that this particular elf was the most dangerous; a whirlwind of vicious attacks, and to meet the edge of his blade was to die. They had surrounded the Warrior, attacking him from all sides, and his movements had become ones of defence, every one had the same purpose: to dodge death. But the soldiers were closing in, sword points almost touching him from all sides. There seemed no way of escape…except…

The Warrior leapt into the air, tucking his legs under him as he twisted around, slicing his sword across, and humans fell. He landed, triumphant, in the space he had carved, using the element of surprise and spinning around, his blade out before him; three more enemies died. In one desperate attempt, the remaining attackers charged him, only to skid to a halt and try to scramble back as his sword lengthened quickly, becoming a spear, and ran one man straight through.

Indignant fire in his eyes, the elf ducked beneath the swings of the men either side of him, pulling and twisting his spear free quickly, rolling backwards as his assailants' swords collided with each other's throats. Blood staining his icy skin and hair, the Warrior stood, eyes flashing, breathing heavily, in time to see the Elvish captain crumbling on the earth ahead of him at the hand of a silver armoured man whose fearsome skull helmet was adorned with one huge pink-red plume. So, that was their pitiful prince? He would lose that title to one truly worthy!

Even as his grief grew, strengthening his anger, soldiers began closing in on him, twice as many as before, and that monstrous silver figure was almost blanked out. Furious, the Warrior was not willing to lose this fight without taking that prince down with him. So it was then that all of his skills as a fighter were required in the coming combat.

The Warrior's next move was one that confused several of his assailants enough that they came to an unsteady standstill. He turned and ran for the cliff face, kicking off against the ground and using his spear to help continue his run, only this time up part of the sheer wall of stone. In less than a second he had recovered that weapon, throwing his free sword straight into the heart of one human. At the same time, his spear morphing back into a blade, he launched himself with all his strength from the stone, higher up the cliff face than many of the men were tall.

What happened next was perhaps not the most elegant of attacks, but it was certainly the most effective of his life so far. His flying collision with the human prince was both painful and unavoidable. All of his body weight slammed with bruising force against solid armour, and together human and elf fell off the back of the former's horse. The silver-armoured prince's pained shout of surprise and fear was cut off long before it could be finished.

Dimly, the Warrior was aware of white-hot pain flashing across his back, sides and arms, but his will to survive took all of his concentration. Once more he was a whirlwind, and this time men fell around him in shocking numbers. His strength began to wane after only a short time, and suddenly he was lying on his side on the soft, wet earth, his cheek pressed against the blood-soaked ground, his pain intense, vision blurred. No more blows came, and for a moment he wondered if he was already dead, but then he felt strong hands lifting him, cheers of gladness, and he knew the elves had won. In peace, he let the darkness take him in its cold embrace.

* * *

Princess Nuala remained as one frozen, staring at the sight of the first death among the elves for some time. Only gradually did the true reality of what had just happened begin to sink in to her thoughts. This was the _very first_ death among their kind, a time she had hoped would never come. More than just a life was lost; much of the hope still remaining had gone.

"Princess," a high, female voice spoke quietly by her side, and she turned to see one of the healers regarding her with vivid yellow eyes from under the rim of a deep hood.

"Yes?" she succeeded in keeping her voice calm, but knew from the surprised look in the healer's eyes that her face betrayed her sadness.

"The first death has just befallen," they told her solemnly, as if she needed reminding, "It is your duty to inform the king, my lady."

The princess glanced back at the empty space left by the moved bed, tilting her head to the side, more tears spilling from her eyes over an otherwise expressionless face. Eventually she nodded, not looking back at the one by her side, and the healer hurried away instantly.

With a forlorn, lonely sigh, Nuala turned slowly, her head bowed, and began to make her way across the hall. Many pained eyes fixed on her as she went, a slight figure in the telling red and black robes of royalty, the royal seal glinting on her stomach. Despite the sadness she wore like a cloak, they felt peace in her presence, comforted in their recovery, or as they neared death.

Outside, in the corridor of trees, nothing looked the same to the princess somehow. Some of the beauty around her had faded, and the cold wind no longer felt good…it bit cruelly at her skin, forcing her to think back on what she had seen. The sunlight, too, seemed too bright, too lacking in heat, while the emerald of the leaves over her head had faded to a dull green.

For once, passers by did stop and pause to regard the princess, noting a change in her behaviour. She was _showing _sadness, her eyes fixed on the ground, her movements slower, as if she was physically burdened by her grief. As she came closer to the throne room, even some of the servants began to pause, and at this unusual behaviour the princess did look up, to see their faces showing confusion…and worry. Two even leaned in closer, whispering – unfortunately for their attempt at discretion – loudly enough for her to hear.

"Does she know about him?"

"No, the king would not allow it. Imagine the uproar!"

Upon hearing these words, Nuala stopped mid-step, her breath catching in surprise. What did they mean? Who was there to know about that the king would not allow her to know of? She half-turned to ask for an explanation, only to see an empty corridor. This was the first hint she'd had that something was being kept from her, and it made her nervous.

After a moment, her thoughts returned to her task, and she descended the steps into the circular, black walled antechamber that led to the throne room. The guards lining the walls did not so much as stir, and the princess hid her discomfort at their presence well.

The Chamberlain looked up thoughtfully from its place by the gates, writing in a large book standing on a high pedestal in front of it. This being was perhaps the strangest of all the creatures of the realm actually employed by the king, with a long, roughly rectangular face and tiny, yellow, circular eyes near the top of its flat forehead. Its skin was almost as pale as those of the elves it served, its mouth an almost unnoticeable line low on its chin. The Chamberlain was tall – standing more than two heads higher than the princess –, and dressed in plain black robes that swept the ground audibly with every movement it made.

"Ah, Princess Nuala, you wish to see the king," its voice was hollow, and yet not emotionless, as it gestured gracefully towards the door with one long hand, its thin, four-jointed fingers curling idly through the air.

"Thank you, Chamberlain," the princess nodded as the doors were opened ahead of her and she was announced to those within – procedure that had been needless the last time she had met with her father in the throne room.

"Princess?" the strange servant asked unexpectedly, and Nuala paused with surprise in the doorway, looking back, "All is well I trust? You have not…heard things that you know to be…unlikely?"

"No, Chamberlain, except from you and two servants back that way," her voice was not so controlled now, confused, frightened almost. What secret would the world be so desperate to keep from her?

Silence greeted her words, and with another sigh the princess stepped through into the throne room. All of the red-robed advisors were regarding her suspiciously, too, and the king's eyes were just as watchful. Why now? Why would something like this only come to light now? What _was _it?

"Father," her voice wavered.

"What is it that you have come to speak of with such urgency, my daughter?" King Balor asked.

"Our first death has befallen," the princess told him, and it seemed to her that he did not look saddened by this, but rather _glad_, like he had been dreading that she might have discovered the news which no one else wished her to know of.

The advisors were less calm on this subject than the king, muttering amongst themselves, and some even sat back on their benches suddenly, expressions stricken. Strengthened by the emotions of those around her – thoughts clearly in accordance with her own – the princess looked back to her father.

"Please, you must call a truce!" she cried suddenly, and the king's eyes grew cold, "I beg you! Does the death of your kin mean nothing to you?"

"Does it mean nothing to _you_?" the king stood suddenly, and Nuala took a step back, more out of surprise from the angry tone of his voice than anything else, "Would you willingly sacrifice our land for a few deaths? What are they, compared to the survival of our kingdom? The seashore you love so much! The hills, and the fields, and the forests? We would be left with so little. Would you sacrifice freedom for survival?"

"Yes," Nuala said instantly. The king jumped in surprise, even as the princess spoke again, her tone uncharacteristically heated, "And what is it that you would wish to keep from me? I have heard of this only twice before, and both times have been on my way here! What is it that…" here she paused, gasping, and took another step back, only this time it was in an attempt to keep herself standing.

Weakness began to invade her body, accompanied by pain of a magnitude she had never known. Her vision blurred and she swayed on her feet as tearing pains shot through her back, her arms and her sides, the worst among them streaking across her left shoulder. Perhaps she screamed, but then again perhaps not; she was too horrified, and frightened to know or care. Something warm and wet was running down her arms and back, and it was with unwilling eyes that she watching the blood trickle over her hands, dripping as if in slow motion onto the dusty earth floor below.

With her last strength, she spun around to see the cause of her injuries, but there was nothing there, no one, and she knew there never had been. No one had done this to her. She looked back to her father with pleading, terrified eyes as the ground connected with her side violently, and a sob escaped her. It seemed so unreal, that the throne room had suddenly erupted into chaos, advisors and guards alike rushing to her aid, panicked shouts filling the air. She watched, uncomprehendingly, as her own blood pooled on the earth around her…

"Someone, get to him!" it was her father's voice now, "Find him! Bring him back! I will not have my daughter die for this fight!" The last thing she remembered thinking was how hypocritical those words had been, and what had befallen her Warrior, anyway?

* * *

The pain fluctuated constantly as she lost, and then regained, consciousness. Her dreams were horrible, despite who they were of; seen through the eyes of the Warrior. He was in pain, being tended to just as she was. As she observed his surroundings, Nuala realised he must be in a room of the palace, yet he was not among the other wounded fighters. The fact that he had been given his own room – one almost identical to hers – told the princess that he was at the very least a member of the high nobility. He could even be the son of one of those who spent so much time in the throne room, working on matters of the Realm and only ever seeming to make things worse. Well, that kind of blunder had affected the Warrior now, too.

In his thoughts Nuala could see a constant rerun of a terrible, desperate battle. The elves had been close to losing, the humans terrifying in their numbers and unrelenting in their assault. She saw so many deaths, crying out in her sleep and thrashing herself awake, despite the pain it caused, desperate to be free of the images of blood and death.

It horrified the princess that the Warrior cared so little for the deaths that he caused, and yet it frightened her more that she understood why he felt that way. The humans were going to kill him, so what did he care if they died instead? He _was _haunted by the first Elvish death he had witnessed – that of the captain, at the hands of the human prince. Just the memory of that all-consuming anger he had felt at the sight was almost overwhelming to Nuala.

One particularly horrible dream had been the Warrior's memory of killing the human prince who had ended the life of his friend. Despite trying to awaken herself, she had been trapped in the dream, perhaps by the sheer potency of emotion with which the Warrior remembered it. The princess had watched, frozen with the fear of what she knew she would see, feeling the memory of the cold wind rushing through _his _hair, over _his _skin, and then the beauty of that feeling was gone. The Warrior collided painfully with the human prince, and they had fallen to the ground. He cut off the man's head without a thought; his rage untameable, and then the other humans were upon him, seeking revenge. That was where the memory blanked out, and the princess had awoken with a scream that terrified her carers.

Even putting aside her unexplained link with the Warrior, Nuala could not understand what was wrong with her. She was aware of the deep gashes in her skin, like wounds she would have thought one would suffer in battle. Yet no one had touched her, nothing had happened to her to make the injuries appear. It upset her to think that her affliction stopped her from finding, and caring for, the Warrior more than she was concerned over the cause of her illness.

She became aware of an improvement in his health even before she noticed that she was recovering, too. His thoughts were no longer filled with memories of battle, fuelled as that subject had been with the constant reminder of his injuries due to his pain. With this new clarity of thought, she sensed that he had felt the pull to go to the Dream Tree too, and beyond, closer to the palace, just as she had been drawn closer to him, in the opposite direction.

Nuala had very little time to learn more of the Warrior, however, for as their pain subsided, the strength of her connection to him faded until it was as distant as it had been before. From the moment his thoughts were gone from hers, the princess found that she could sleep peacefully again, and for some reason that made her nervous. The connection between her peace and his presence in her mind were not coincidental.

Some time after rediscovering peace, the princess became aware of the passing of time, and eventually days became distinguishable, if only vaguely with her continuing relapses of unconsciousness. It was during one of these times of awareness when the princess truly began to awake. She could sense that it was morning, bright light streaming through the empty window-space beside her.

Slowly, she began to rise through the fog of sleep, and the world around her became clearer. She was lying on her bed in her own room, with a healer quietly entering through the door to her right, set in the wall against which the head of her bed was placed. It took a moment for the new arrival to notice that the princess was awake, and when she did she smiled brightly at Nuala, hurrying to her side, placing the cup of water she had gone for on the table by the bed.

"Ah, you are awake, princess! How do you feel? Do you need anything?"

The princess shook her head, even as she tried to raise herself into a sitting position; the healer aided her, and soon she spoke, her voice sounding strange after so long without speech, "I feel much better, thank you. How long…has it been?"

"Twenty days, perhaps a little less. Your wounds are almost healed now," the Elvish woman was quick to add, glancing away with nervous eyes before looking back at the princess, "But there will be scars."

Nuala nodded absently, even as she ran a hand over her face, checking for any difference there, and closed her eyes gladly as she realised none of those scars would be visible ones.

"How was I?" she asked at length, turning her gaze to the whispering trees and the misty rain outside, "Not too much trouble, I hope. So much is needed these days to tend for the soldiers."

"No, no! Not at all…hardly, one of the quietest I've ever tended to. Except…you never slept well, screaming when you wakened, in some kind of frenzy. You looked terrified, my lady, were your dreams bad ones?"

"Often," Nuala admitted softly, "I suppose I wish that these fights were over, before the situation worsens and descends into…war."

"It will please you then, princess, to learn that the humans have retreated," the healer told her, eyes shining, "At least for the time being."

The relief Nuala felt upon hearing these words was immense, and a smile found its way on to her face. Still, she seemed incapable of showing how much that news meant to her, and all she could manage was a gentle sigh.

"I am so glad," she smiled, and the healer nodded in agreement, handing the princess the cup of water from the table.

"Drink, my lady," the carer bade her, and Nuala nodded her thanks. She had almost brought the container to her lips when her companion spoke again, "I have been curious, princess…of something, though I know it is not my place to ask…"

"What is it?" Nuala asked, her heart lurching, as she cast a brief sidelong glance at the Elvish woman beside her. The expression she saw was not quite the same as the one borne by those that had suggested the king was hiding something from her; it was confused, but not worried or suspicious.

"Well, I was wondering who the warrior is that you keep asking for? You dreamed of him a lot, whispering to yourself with increasing agitation. I was thinking that perhaps it would help you to recover if you knew he was safe."

"I spoke of a warrior?" Nuala whispered, looking away quickly before the healer could interpret the mixed emotions on her face, "What did I…say?"

"You just asked for him mostly, and sometimes just for his name. A few times, you sounded as though you were pleading for him even, asking someone not to hurt him, and sometimes not to hurt you. There were times when I couldn't tell whose pain you were speaking of, and others when it sounded like there was no difference to you," the healer paused, watching thoughtfully as Nuala subconsciously brought a hand to her own heart, her eyes fixed on the world outside, "Would it help to know if he is well? I know of your…ability, just as the rest of the king's subjects do, so it seemed fair that your connection with this 'warrior' is linked to that, considering you do not know his name."

"You have seen much, healer, and interpreted much more," Nuala told her pointedly, looking back to the one by her side with eyes that were suddenly just as cold and emotionless as ever.

"Forgive me, my lady," the Elvish woman murmured hastily, bowing her head deferentially, "I meant no disrespect." Her tone was sincere enough that the princess eventually nodded, allowing her emotions to show a little more again.

"I understand," she said eventually, and the healer looked up in relief, "What is your name? I wish to thank the one who has tended me so kindly for all this time."

"Ethlinn, my lady."

"Then thank you, Ethlinn," the princess smiled, "I am forever grateful to you for your kindness."

The young healer stood with a smile, curtseying self-consciously, "I will leave you in peace now my lady, I know I was wrong to ask."

"Wait," Nuala bade, just before Ethlinn could reach the door, and the healer turned around in surprise, "I would appreciate it greatly if you could find this…warrior for me."

"I would be glad to," none of the over-eagerness the princess had expected to see in the healer's face was visible, so she felt it safe to continue.

"You must never tell another being what you have heard from me, or of whom you seek," Nuala said eventually.

"I swear on my honour, a servant of royalty to a princess, I will tell no creature, and no living being, if that is what you wish."

"Good…thank you."

"How do you wish me to find him? Is there any way by which I can discern who this warrior may be?" Ethlinn asked after a moment, when Nuala's expression clouded over, as if lost in thought.

"There is very little to go by," the princess admitted with a sigh, "But I can tell you that he was not with the other fighters…he was brought here not long after I fell ill, and tended to in a separate room – one that looks much like this one."

From almost the very first word of her description, Nuala could tell there was something wrong. Ethlinn paled visibly – something almost impossible for one of their kind – and she barely seemed capable of keeping herself standing. She stared for a moment with wide eyes, her expression indecisive, hands clenching into fists as if grasping at the air just to hold herself up.

"D-do you know him?" the princess asked in confusion.

"Only by sight…and knowledge of who he is in the realm. Are you…sure, my lady? Certain? What is it…I feel I must ask, for this is incomprehensible to me…that draws you so closely to _him_?"

"I have no idea," Nuala shrugged, but her heart was pounding – yes, there was something wrong with this situation, "I see him in my dreams."

"My lady…I…" Ethlinn continued to struggle for words before eventually reaching for the door.

"What is it? What is being kept from me? Why now? Why am I learning of these secrets now?"

"You truly know nothing of this?" Ethlinn looked horrified for a moment, and then sighed, "Then I suppose there is no better way but for you to learn for yourself. I know of whom you speak – there is only one warrior among us who is being tended to separately. You must forgive me for refraining from telling you his name…I am risking much to help you, my lady."

Before Nuala could respond, Ethlinn was gone, and the princess could not ignore the constant beating of her heart, drumming in her head so loudly in the otherwise silent room. Once again, the princess knew what it was to be lonely, after having the company of another's mind for so many days. Yet, no more emotions could find their way into her thoughts. She was alone, she was unbearably alone, and knowing the Warrior was so close only made such feelings worse.

Sleep took the princess without her consciously realising it, and the next time she opened her eyes it was to the sound of her bedroom door clicking shut quietly. Since when had she been part of such conspiratorial behaviour?

"Princess Nuala," Ethlinn whispered softly in the greyish light, "I have news."

"What news?" the eagerness in her own voice sounded unfamiliar.

"That he spends his evenings in the gardens, by the forest. I would not recommend that you make the journey tonight, but perhaps tomorrow you could go and…see him for yourself."

"Thank you, Ethlinn," the princess murmured, muffling her voice against the sheets lest the healer hear the shaking in her tone. She felt as though her heart might just explode from joy…and she could feel that pulling sensation, a need to find him, see him…

"It was my pleasure to help, my lady, if it gives you peace."

The healer's departure was marked by the second click of the door, and instantly Nuala was on her feet. She swayed unsteadily for a moment and then, breathing deeply, managed to make her way across the room to the firelight-illuminated mirror and wardrobe. She dressed hastily by the orange glow of the flames in garments of white and blue, then, heedless of the healer's warnings, she left her room.

With some relief she noticed that the corridor of trees was mainly deserted, few of the elves going about palatial business at the hour of twilight. Still, she could see perfectly in the silvery light, and the cool wind felt good on her skin again. She loved the way it stirred the leaves overhead, a sound that was somehow cheerful to her then.

Nuala found that she was almost smiling as she turned the corner and stepped out into the moonlit garden. The world was beautiful painted in a sheen of silver, the water of the nearby stream tinkling gently to the continuing rustle of the trees around the garden.

This space was a large one, tended carefully by spirits of the forest, and though it was clearly precisely structured, it retained a wild feel that somehow fit that moment perfectly. Nuala knew the moment she saw him, though he was perfectly unfamiliar; a figure dressed entirely in black, probably not much taller than she was, with white-blonde hair, darkening to gold at the tips, that was over half as long again as hers, drifting around his shoulders in the breeze. Somehow he stood out amongst the few others wandering through the garden. Perhaps it was the way he walked with so much confidence, though his head was slightly bowed, or perhaps it was just the pull she felt towards him. Either way, taking a deep breath, the princess stepped forward towards him, and her destiny.


	4. Awakening

3:

Awakening

That pulling feeling had returned, stronger than ever this time, only he could not tell which way it wanted him to go. The Warrior found he could hardly think anyway, struggling just to keep his breathing steady. He could not understand what was wrong with him.

After a short time of warring with his own feelings, he decided that the most trusted option for him to take was to leave the serenity of the gardens and return to the palace. Without looking where he was going, he took a step back, turning around, only to find that he had placed himself on a collision course with another's path, and the two walked straight into each other.

For a surreal moment, their surprise and confusion kept them still, and the seconds froze as their gazes found and held each other. Finally, that pulling feeling that had haunted them for all their lives was gone. That feeling of freedom was almost as incomprehensible to them as was the lack of it, and they found the moment lasted longer than it should have.

Nuala stared more in amazement than confusion. She had never looked at another of her kind and thought them to be beautiful before. This the Warrior certainly was to her; perhaps because he was as different from the others in appearance as she was, if not more. His eyes were almost as orange-red as hers, though still a little more yellow, and his eyelids and lips were as black as hers were red.

It was hard to believe she had seen through this man's eyes, felt his pain, watched his dreams as if they were her own and yet he still did not know her. Looking into his eyes she could not recognise any emotion where ordinarily she could have discerned much from a person's expression. She felt as though she _needed _to know, to understand, and her hand began to ache with the need to touch his, so that she could hear what he felt.

"My apologies," the Warrior murmured, his low voice gentle as he steadied the princess automatically, and then quickly let go of her arms, stepping back, feeling as though tiny sparks were going off in his fingertips where he had touched her. His next thought was one of wonder; he had not wanted to let go, but manners had insisted that he did.

"N-no…don't apologise…I should have been looking where I was going, I am sorry," Nuala insisted, her voice barely above a whisper as she glanced away nervously. Even as she spoke, he was moving back, and her fingertips briefly touched his palm. Thoughts of awe, of amazement and…she tried not to think about such ideas, but a smile found its way onto her face anyway.

"You live here?" he said it more as a statement, but Nuala nodded anyway, and his expression became one of a strange kind of amusement, "Yet you are not a healer, and certainly not a servant."

"No, I am not," the princess replied quickly, her chin tilting proudly. Still, she was glad the colour of her clothes did not betray her true identity – after all, would he be willing to speak with her if he knew she was royalty?

"I have offended you," the Warrior noted, and his expression darkened. Despite the stirring up of her pride, Nuala felt her heart race; no one had _ever _looked at her like that, "I am sorry…for the second time," and he bowed his head briefly, pale hair shimmering silver in the moonlight.

"I will accept your apology. You are after all a warrior," the princess paused, half-smiling, _enjoying _the way his eyes flashed at the suggestion of how that rank might affect his command of manners, "And as such you have fought hard for the realm."

"And I will allow your _cruelty_," his smile – an expression that was barely noticeable at all, showing more from the gentle look in his eyes than anything else – betrayed his lack of sincerity in regards to that accusation, "Simply because my own words were…misguided."

The distant footfalls of the night guards alerted Nuala to the fact that the rest of the world still existed, and she glanced over at the glimmering light nervously. She could not risk them seeing her, not when Ethlinn had told her to stay in her room that night. Unthinkingly, she began to step back towards the passageway of trees, and then glanced back at the Warrior.

"You must leave?" he asked knowingly, his eyes straying pointedly towards the guards.

"Yes," the princess sighed – why was she so saddened by this? She and this warrior had barely spoken a – civil – word to one another! How amazed she felt at the emergence of so many new emotions.

"But you will be here again tomorrow?"

"Certainly," she smiled; there was nothing she wanted more!

"Then goodnight…until then," the Warrior added with a smile, "Don't let them catch you!" he laughed slightly as the princess turned towards the trees and vanished into the night.

* * *

The next few days passed as if in a dream, where every evening was spent together. Nuala was amazed by how much peace these meetings gave her, and yet could not help feeling uneasy about the way Ethlinn had reacted when she discovered the identity of the Warrior. It was for this reason that she found herself strangely unwilling to learn the name of her new companion – would it somehow tell her of why the healer had been so shocked…horrified, even? The princess was not sure if she wanted to know why that was.

Above all things, Nuala felt confusion at the happiness the presence, and the company, of the Warrior gave her. It was with shame that she admitted she forgot even about the death she had seen, when she was with him. Similarly, it was almost with fear that she felt the pounding of her heart every evening when she knew it was not long before she would see him.

The Warrior had brought about so many sudden changes in her; she could feel excitement, and, more strangely, she could speak with him without awkwardness or the need to distance herself. He had the power to make her smile, to make her laugh, even. She wondered if she had the same effect on the Warrior, and found herself hoping it was so.

This was all so new to the princess, because she had not felt such happiness since she was a child. Nuala knew no explanation for why she had lost so many emotions as she became older, or why as she began to lose her happiness the strange pull had strengthened, calling for her to seek out…him. She knew that at least. They were definitely linked in some way, but the explanation for this, too, was unknown to her.

Despite her uneasiness and her confusion, the princess found herself increasingly in anticipation of her evenings with the Warrior. This eagerness made her feel as if she were a stranger to herself, and yet it also lightened her heart and her spirits. So it was that she was glad that these twilight ventures had remained unnoticed – as ever, no one thought to take note of her as she passed them. All but the fairies, of course, who seemed to understand far too much for her liking, giggling and pointing as she went by them, whispering amongst each other with excited voices.

Often, the princess and the Warrior would speak very little, and yet still enjoying each other's company. One particular night of this sort was one Nuala found herself replaying over and over again in her thoughts. It was just one simple moment, one moment of clarity in the Warrior's unreadable mask that had both surprised her and filled her with emotions so unfamiliar she was surprised she recognised them at all: exhilaration and delight.

The princess had been standing by his side, caught somewhere between the beauty of the sunset she was watching and trying not to concentrate too hard on the fact that every so often, their arms would touch. Finally, the sun had sunk below the line of trees, and Nuala had looked around to see his eyes already upon her. His expression was so gentle, so honest in a way, showing all the emotions she had sensed from him when they first met…and more. She had smiled at him, a little self consciously, feeling her heart rate increase as in response he simply touched a fingertip to the back of her hand, very lightly and just as briefly.

Other times they had spent all night just talking, learning of each other's lives. And yet still they remained oblivious of each other's names, and of their real standing in the Elvish society. The mystery of the Warrior was one that was forever in Nuala's thoughts; she did not know that he lay awake all night, often just thinking of her, just as she did of him.

Inevitably, however, it was only a matter of time before the new pattern of their lives was disrupted. For one day a terrible storm descended upon the land, rain hammering to the ground seemingly with the force of thrown spears, wind howling through the trees almost with enough force to fell them. The palace of course remained untouched by the chaos, but the gardens were out of bounds, and Nuala found herself sitting helplessly in her room, alone that evening, as the storm raged on. She hardly slept that night.

The next day she rose from her bed, glad to see that the sky was clear and there would be no more chaos. Still, she was restless, unable to sit still for long when her thoughts were forever on _him_, and eventually the princess escaped from notice to try and walk off her unrest through the palace.

Nuala was paying little attention to her surroundings as she wandered aimlessly down the familiar passageways and through the corridors of trees she knew so well. So it was with some surprise that she came upon a place she did not recognise: a small glade, awash with the bright morning light. She was about to retrace her steps, to work out why she did not know this part of the palace grounds, when she saw him, and instead of walking away Nuala found herself pausing in the archway of trees that led to the clearing.

Standing there, watching him, the princess was mesmerised. She found it hard to believe how beautiful he made every action, turning a fighting routine into a dance. He twirled the spear effortlessly through the air, his long hair flowing out behind him as he spun in midair, landing with his back to the princess, his face turned to the side, the spear tip pointing outwards to the right while he used his free hand for balance. It surprised Nuala to admit that this was the most graceful pose she had ever seen. Then he broke into movement again, the strong muscles of his bare back rippling as he spun around.

The second he saw her, he smiled, spinning the spear around and around in one hand as it lost its momentum, then settling it slowly on the grass-covered ground beside him and gesturing for her to enter.

"I'm not intruding?" the princess asked tentatively, stepping over the threshold anyway.

"Of course not," he promised, and she smiled in relief, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Oh…not long. I've never seen a dance more beautiful."

"Or deadly," he reminded her darkly, and the princess nodded reluctantly, "Did you lose your way? This is not a place I would expect to…find you," he noted, turning around, and Nuala's heart rate increased suddenly as her eyes were drawn to his powerfully muscled chest.

"Yes," she managed to say quietly.

"Then I am glad you lost your way to me," he smiled, and when he said it his dark ochre eyes shone. Nuala was about to return the look when she saw the scars, several of them, streaking his upper arms. She could see a long, curved, raised line on his left side, just below his ribs, with another crossing diagonally over his chest from his left shoulder.

"Those scars…they are all from battle?" she gasped, approaching automatically, reaching out as if by touching him she could take away the pain they had caused in the past.

"Yes," he shrugged, an action that relaxed again when the princess touched her fingers lightly to his chest, "They are no longer painful," he added softly, as her touch ran over the scar there.

"I know," she sighed, biting her lip nervously when she raised her eyes to look into his again, "I wish the pain had never been there at all," as she spoke, her hand paused on his skin, her palm resting over his heart, feeling its rhythm. Some of his thoughts found their way into hers, emotions of surprise…and pleasure. He did not understand why she had come so close to him, but he liked it.

"You would wish no one to ever feel pain," the Warrior observed.

"Least of all you," Nuala nodded, then looked away in embarrassment, snatching her hand back suddenly as she realised the contact she had made.

"This is one of the practice areas for the warriors," he told her eventually, answering Nuala's unspoken question, "You have lived in the palace all of your life, and yet you do not know this place…why is that? Why would you never come here?" he mused aloud, his eyes searching her face, and then he nodded to himself, "You are afraid of them, of the warriors," he stated softly, and the princess looked up quickly, glad when she saw no hurt in his expression.

"I…" she began, but stopped when the Warrior brought a hand up to lightly touch her cheek.

"And yet you do not fear me," he noted softly, subconsciously stepping closer.

"Never you," the princess agreed, closing her eyes as she put a hand over his, holding his touch against her face.

"Tell me your name," the Warrior whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her neck so that she almost forgot the answer.

"Nuala," the princess answered, her voice just as quiet, turning her face against the side of his without quite touching, but feeling the warmth and the comfort he brought her.

For a moment the Warrior was utterly still, and Nuala feared he had realised her true identity in the realm. It was with some surprise, then, that she recognised he was smiling as he spoke again.

"Truly?"

"Yes, what is it?" the princess asked nervously.

"Just a startling similarity."

"In what sense?"

"Our names…there is but one sound between them," the Warrior informed her with a slight laugh of amazement that instantly set her at ease.

"Your name?" Nuala prompted, and her companion stepped back slowly from the unusual embrace; she sensed his unwillingness at doing so, and his pleasure as her touch on his hand remained, even as he lowered it from her face.

"My name," here he paused, seeming slightly embarrassed because of the similarity, "Is Nuada."

"You seem somewhat uncertain," the princess teased, the light-hearted response coming automatically to her. She knew his name! The similarity was surprising, but it meant nothing to her, at least in the sense that she was no wiser on the subject of Ethlinn's unease.

"I could have said the same for you earlier," the Warrior – Nuada – pointed out with a smile that told the princess he had most definitely noticed the shake in her voice as she had told him her name before.

"Ah, we two nameless ones," Nuala smiled, and suddenly he was all around her. She felt his hand running through her hair, the other trailing lightly over her back, and could not suppress a sigh of contentment.

The princess had never been so close to anyone in her life. No one had ever held her, at least not in her memory, and certainly not in the way he did then! Amazement filling her thoughts, and, feeling as though the whole world had taken on a dreamlike quality, she looked up to meet his eyes. For a moment they remained that way, just looking at each other, and then they moved closer at exactly the same time. Their lips brushed only once before the nearby rattle of armour alerted the two to the fact that they were no longer alone.

Gently and yet still urgently, Nuada pushed the princess away, and she paused for only a moment, gasping. The second she heard the call of the servants announcing the arrival of the king a stricken expression came upon her face, and she darted instantly into the trees.

"Find me," she whispered over her shoulder before the veil of leaves had closed around her fully, and could only hope that the warrior had heard her.

* * *

The king had not remained long, speaking only briefly with Nuada before leaving again. The warrior had done well to keep his behaviour calm – after all, his thoughts were totally diverted from the words of the king. Once Balor did eventually go, the young Elvish warrior continued the fighting routine he had been enacting when Nuala had found him. He knew he could not simply leave the practice area; that would create suspicion in those who saw him.

This reasoning proved to have been wise – and rather futile – when Nuada spun around to see his spear collide with the blade of a familiar elf, a fellow warrior. There was no challenge in the expression of the newcomer, who had been a close friend of Nuada's in childhood. That bond had weakened considerably over the years, though they had often practiced together, and both had been injured in the same battle.

"Elatha," Nuada growled, regarding the golden-haired newcomer coldly.

Suddenly, the first warrior's hands were a blur, spinning his spear around the blade and only stopping – a split second – later when the silver point was pressed to Elatha's right shoulder. Instantly the taller, and less physically formidable, warrior dropped his sword to the ground, raising his hands in defeat.

"I surrender, old friend," he grinned, his eyes – as vivid yellow as his hair – glinting with mischief.

Then, just as Nuada had been a second before, Elatha was a blur, ducking quickly below the spear point, his ponytail of long hair swishing dangerously close to the sharp edge before he jumped to the side with much talked of nimbleness. Thinking to stop the other elf's equal – if not greater – agility and strength, he took hold of the shaft of the spear, and suddenly found himself being swung through the air to land heavily, flat on his back.

"You seem to have somewhat worsened your position, _old friend_," Nuada pointed out needlessly, triumphant as he tapped the flat of the spear point against Elatha's neck.

"That it would seem," the other warrior agreed with an embarrassed laugh, and that familiar sound brought a rare smile to Nuada's face, too, as he helped his friend quickly to his feet. The expression became wary when Elatha spoke again, "Who is she? The one you were with before the king arrived?"

"You saw," Nuada hissed, more out of anger with himself, turning away quickly.

"Only the form of an Elvish maid vanishing into those trees," Elatha corrected, pointing to the very spot where Nuala had last been seen.

"Then it is none of your concern, Elatha."

"You are correct, of course," the other elf acceded with a quick bow, "But still, it is good to see that the hermit among us has found a measure of companionship."

Upon hearing those words, Nuada looked sharply over his shoulder, a menacing expression once more on his face. When he saw once again that there was no challenge in the face of one he had called a friend, the look changed, and he managed to raise an eyebrow in disbelief before joining in with Elatha's laughter.

"Is that what you call me behind my back, old friend?"

"That and more," Elatha grinned unashamedly, "Come, my lord, let us join the other warriors for a time. It is good to hear an old friend laugh again after so long, and I believe they will agree with me on that."

* * *

Upon hearing the arrival of King Balor, Nuala had been quick to leave the practice areas, fleeing through the trees. She knew the rest of the palace well enough that it mattered little if she was unfamiliar with the places for the warriors, and so it was not long before she was entering her room.

Once safely inside and away from suspicion, the princess bolted the door, and then fell back against the wooden structure, gasping. A hand flying to her mouth, she was almost surprised to hear herself laugh. It was a sound of pure delight, almost like a child who has been given a treasure they had been coveting for some time. Her thoughts spinning, she allowed herself to slide down the door until she was sitting, the skirts of her blue dress rippling out around her.

The high, mischievous tittering of fairies hovering outside, then alighting silently in the window space to regard her curiously alerted Nuala to the fact that she was not alone. She stared in their direction without really seeing them, her thoughts too busy on one of the best moments of her life.

Eventually, the princess managed to recover her composure enough to stand, and finally noticed the game the little creatures in the window space were playing. They were mocking her, of course, as only fairies knew how, acting out little scenes while a third would present them to her. Somehow they already realised what had just happened, but it gladdened her to know that they had not actually seen it. Their guesses were too far out from the reality.

"Where is Ethlinn?" Nuala asked eventually, after a brief mental struggle with her pride. Her tone surprised the little fairies, and the two 'actors' squealed in fright, flitting away back into the gardens. The third creature wavered on the edge of the window space, bound by courtesy to loyalty.

"She is among the flowers in the archway gardens," it told her nervously, and was gone from sight with a little bow the second the princess waved a hand to dismiss it.

Of course Nuala knew of the place the fairy had spoken of, and made haste to the area. It was a small space of open ground connected to the palace by a ring of trees, the boughs of which had grown tangled and curved together, forming several high, splendid archways. A small, dark pool was at the centre of the chaos of colour that was the garden, with several tiny fairies and less common creatures tending to the flowers there. It took only a moment for the princess to notice the Elvish healer seated on the ground among the flowers at the very edge of the garden.

"Ethlinn!" Nuala cried, and the enthusiasm in her voice did not just make her jump, it made the healer jump, too.

"Princess," she gasped in surprise, and had only just begun to stand when her new companion sat down beside her, more cautiously now, "You look…well."

"Do I?" Nuala asked, and her voice held confusion, though her expression seemed somewhat dazed from happiness – her smile was only slight, but it showed clearly on her face, since the princess so rarely showed any emotion at all, "I feel…strange."

"How so, my lady?" Ethlinn inquired, instantly concerned.

"No, no, I am not unwell," Nuala promised quickly, and noticed that the healer only relaxed slightly, "But I do not understand the change that has come upon me."

"What change do you speak of?" Ethlinn truly did not need to ask that question – much of the answer was visible in the princess's expression, after all.

"I am not sure how to explain it," Nuala admitted, then turned to regard the healer with confused eyes, "I feel…happy. My heart pounds, and it makes me feel weak, and yet I cannot sit still…I feel," the princess cut the sentence off there, embarrassed; she had just been about to repeat her first words.

"No, I would say that is not illness," Ethlinn agreed with a slight smile, "But something altogether the opposite," she laughed when Nuala regarded her with a perfectly innocent expression, "You have found a reason to be happy," the healer explained, "A…person perhaps?" when the princess looked away quickly, guiltily, her companion nodded, smiling more, "You care for someone."

"I do not understand."

"Ah, Princess Nuala, you will understand soon, I promise," Ethlinn smiled.

Nuala did not look convinced, but in that moment she could find no room for sadness, and so simply looked away, beginning to hum. The beautiful sound surprised Ethlinn, but she did not interrupt, amazed by the way the tune made her spirits soar. After a short time, however, the princess stopped the tune, and turned to regard the healer once more.

"Are you waiting for someone?" she asked, and the sound was cheerful enough to make Ethlinn smile again.

"Only my brother. He should be here very soon."

"You have brother?" Nuala smiled, but the look was somehow wistful, "I wish I had a brother," she did not finish the thought, however, for her gaze had turned to the forest. Without thinking, she began to stand, bidding the healer an automatic goodbye, and heading out towards the trees.

Once she was halfway across the main garden, the beauty of the world around her struck the princess. The sun was high in the sky, setting the world ablaze with colour, and the day was filled with one long song of natural sound. Laughing joyfully, Nuala reached her arms out to her sides, as if trying to touch everything around her, and spun in a circle, marvelling at the whole world.

Despite her pause in the gardens, it was not long before Nuala was among her precious trees, deep in the dappled emerald forest. Here she finally stopped her walk, looking about herself cautiously. Then, slowly and yet with perfect confidence, she broke into the graceful, beautiful and very lonely dance of the elves.

"Never have I seen a dance more beautiful," a familiar voice told her from nearby, and the princess turned in surprise, falling back a nervous step, biting her lip almost self-consciously as she saw Nuada. Still, she could not help smiling at his reference to her earlier words.

"And this one is not deadly," she nodded, and the warrior raised an eyebrow at that, taking in her appearance from head to toe…and back again.

"I'm sure," he told her softly, approaching slowly when Nuala held a hand out to him.

The warrior had almost reached her when the princess danced back among the trees, laughing softly. So it began, the first moment of utter happiness that either had ever felt: a game of the elves where she was always just out of reach, flitting away from him as he willingly sought her. Both of them noticed that her escapes became narrower and narrower, partly out of a growing unwillingness on Nuala's part to truly evade him, and partly because the warrior was beginning to understand what she was doing. She was taking them both to the Dream Tree.

It was not long before they reached their destination, and instantly Nuala stopped her retreat, allowing the warrior to 'catch' her. That he certainly did, his hands settling gently on her waist as he drew her closer, and once again they kissed, slowly at first, but then with increasing passion, until they both fell to the ground of moss and grass.

"Beautiful spirit of the forest, take me with you," Nuada whispered with a smile before rolling onto his back to lie beside her.

The princess just laughed quietly, staring up dreamily at the canopy of the forest and thinking about how beautiful everything suddenly was – even more so than before. Then a thought occurred to her, and she glanced over to meet the warrior's eyes.

"What is it?" he asked softly as Nuala sat up, moving closer to his side and looking down at him thoughtfully.

"There is something I…want you to know," she told him eventually, "Something…strange."

"Oh?" Nuada raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing more, awaiting the princess's explanation patiently.

"Perhaps you have heard of such things before, but there is an…ability I possess," the admission was more difficult for the princess than she had expected – she had never actually _told _anyone before, "With a touch of my hand I can see the past of an object, or the feelings of a living creature…"

"And then how much have you learned of me?" Nuada asked, a little more sharply than she had expected him to. He sounded defensive…hurt almost.

"I…nothing," the princess whispered uncomfortably, moving back to stand on the very edge of the clearing as he sat up. Looking into his eyes was suddenly…frightening.

"Really," he sighed sarcastically, also standing, and Nuala took a nervous step back.

"I learned nothing of your thoughts," she murmured quickly, "I…I only learned of your feelings. They were so beautiful, I couldn't help myself…"

"Nuala," the warrior's tone was much gentler now, "You promised you did not fear me," he reminded her.

"And I don't…I only fear what you will think of me now."

"Then don't, because you need not," he smiled, reaching a hand out towards her, "Please come back, I am sorry."

Slowly, uncertainly, Nuala did return to the centre of the clearing, feeling relief and trust once more only as the warrior touched his hand to hers, so that their palms rested together. This time, with the knowledge of her ability, Nuada's thoughts were guarded; she could sense that he was keeping the memories of his battles from her. Still, he did allow her to sense the warmth of his emotions for her, and eventually the princess smiled, closing her eyes in happiness as they kissed again.


	5. Baiting

**Baiting**

"Princess?" Ethlinn called softly, knocking on the door of Nuala's chambers. The sound resounded quietly through the room beyond, but there was no response, though the healer waited patiently for some time, "Princess Nuala? Are you in there? Is all well? The king wishes for your presence in the throne room."

After several more moments of telling silence, Ethlinn reached nervously for the door handle, jumping as it turned with a slight click. Asking once more for the princess, she carefully opened the wooden portal, which swung open smoothly. Within all was still, lit by the pale early morning light, the fire cold as if it had been unnecessary that night.

At first the healer was glad to see that all was as she had last beheld it; the fire, dark as it was, standing opposite the doorway, with the mirror shining by its side. The table of vines standing in the corner to her right was empty, and the only sound in the room was from the rushing of the wind through the trees outside.

However, it was the very stillness of the room that began to make Ethlinn uneasy. Unwillingly she stepped further into the large, pale room, turning to regard the left wall, the furthest side of the chamber. Despite her previous fears, she still gasped in shock when she saw the empty bed, its covers untouched from the last time they had been made.

"Oh no," the healer groaned, "Princess, what have you done?"

"Healer," a low voice called sharply, and Ethlinn turned to see the king's guards awaiting her in the corridor, "The king wishes to see the princess immediately."

"Yes," she replied with a sigh, glancing uncomfortably back towards the empty bed, "But she is not here."

A short pause – clearly of confusion – followed before the guard spoke again, "Then we must report this to the king."

The heavily armoured guardians gestured for Ethlinn to follow them, and promptly set a brisk pace towards the throne room. Every step the healer took felt increasingly heavy; there was no way she felt she could explain the princess's absence without bringing down the wrath of royalty. After all, she had promised Nuala to speak of 'her warrior' to no one, but there was also the older vow to the king…

All too soon, Ethlinn found herself standing before the intimidating, and certainly unusual, Chamberlain, who regarded her for several long seconds before calling for the gates to be opened and announcing her presence. So it was for the second time that day she found herself, a healer of the realm, standing before the king and his guards, her head bowed, staring fixedly at the ground.

"Where is my daughter?" Balor asked coldly, "Raise your head, healer, you are not speaking with the ground."

"W-we do not know, my king," Ethlinn mumbled, unwillingly looking up to meet the king's glare. When he nodded in exasperation, she knew he expected her to elaborate, so she found her voice again, "I called for her at her chambers, but there was no response. When I went inside, fearing her…illness…had relapsed somehow, she was not there, and with no sign of having been there during the night."

"Oh, my daughter," the king sighed wearily, leaning back on the throne and staring up at the ceiling of leaves, "Would that I had been a better father to her."

Ethlinn blinked in surprise at this, not having expected such a response from him. She had feared to at least lose her title of healer, and yet there she found herself, standing in the throne room for the second time in one day – for the second time in her life! – listening to the king's regrets.

"M-my lord?"

"She knows of him, the fairies have told me that much," Balor nodded with a groan, looking back to Ethlinn, "And they say you are in her confidence – the only being in the realm whom she trusts. I care little for your excuses, healer, the rules were clear: she must not know _of _him and she must not _know _him. You have broken one openly, and another by inaction, and yet I will give you a chance to retain your standing in the realm. You, Ethlinn, must simply listen as you have so faithfully done thus far," here Balor's sneer was not withheld, "But with one extra detail. Everything you hear must be recited to me. If I learn later what you tell me is false, you will no longer be welcome in this palace."

"Y-yes my king…I thank you," Ethlinn managed to stammer, but inside she wanted only to scream out her anguish. _The princess knows nothing of this! If you truly wish to be a better father, would it not have been by far the kindest thing to never hold back the truth? It will kill you all. _

"Now be gone, my daughter will return soon I trust…if she does not, then you must find her, healer, and learn all you can before bringing her here to me."

Ethlinn was more than glad to leave that hall far behind, returning with angry tears in her eyes to sit and wait at the archway gardens, where she had been the day before when Nuala had spoken so freely with her.

* * *

Princess Nuala awoke to the sound of bird song and the gentle warmth of the morning sun. Sighing softly, she became aware of the cold dew settled all around her, sparkling among the grass stems on the ground and even in her hair. She was also very much aware of the one beside her, his arm warm against hers.

Carefully she sat up, smiling gently when she saw the warrior had not yet woken. Her touch almost so light she could not sense it, she ran her fingers over his hair, following the ice-white, golden tipped strands over his shoulder.

"What are you dreaming of?" the princess asked quietly, moving around so she could sit by his side and watch his face.

High-pitched laughter from nearby had Nuala looking around sharply, and once again she saw the fairies presenting their little play to her. This time it was clear they _had _seen, but the princess was too happy to really care. She smiled at them, and the one among them who was not busy acting clapped delightedly at her response.

"Shhh," Nuala bade the fairies, "He is sleeping."

Once again she turned her attention to the warrior. She could not remember falling asleep, only that after her admission of her ability, they had once more lain on the grass side by side. The sky had been beautifully clear, and they had watched the stars as night fell, talking peacefully.

Smiling again, the princess leaned closer, but the second her shadow fell upon the warrior, his eyes flew open. His hand closed tightly around her arm, and for a long moment there was no recognition in his expression. Nuala cried out in pain and surprise, and the warrior let go instantly, his frown becoming a look of chagrin.

"Nuada," the princess whispered softly before he could speak, "I'm sorry for startling you."

Nuala ran a hand over the warrior's face, and once again the fairies giggled, pretending to swoon in midair, falling close to the ground before catching themselves at the very last second. This time, however, it was Nuada who looked around, and the little creatures fell silent immediately. Sighing, the princess leaned closer still, pressing her lips to his jaw so that he looked back to her.

"Let them be," she bade him, "They mean us no harm. Let down your warrior's guard…you are just with me, after all. Laugh with them, or pay them no heed."

Before Nuada could respond, the princess took his face in her hands and kissed him gently. Instantly all thoughts of fairies were forgotten, and the warrior moaned softly, pressing her closer with a hand on her back, the other tangled in her hair. He only realised he had half sat up when he fell back, gasping, as they unwillingly pulled apart.

Nuala smiled at him, also somewhat breathless, and settled herself more comfortably so that she was lying half on the ground, but with her body resting over his. Once again they kissed, for longer this time, only moving apart again when the fairies nearby – who had begun a race to the top of the nearest tree – gasped in surprise.

The princess looked around first, her gaze following the fairies' frantic pointing, to the edge of the clearing. She laughed in delight when she beheld a large, strikingly coloured bird looking back at her with sapphire eyes. Its tall tail was made up of a collection of red and gold feathers, giving the effect of a blazing fire, while its body was a brilliant, iridescent orange.

The bird tipped its head towards Nuala, flapping its feathers gently and taking a cautious step forwards. When the warrior looked around the princess to see it, the creature jumped back again, squawking in surprise, and as it made the sound a little burst of fire escaped its beak, drifting away to nothing instantly.

"A phoenix," the princess whispered, looking back at Nuada as he sat up, putting his arms around her, "A reborn bird come to bring its joy."

"I doubt I could handle much more of that emotion," the warrior whispered against her shoulder, "It is so unfamiliar."

"It does feel strange," Nuala smiled, "But no amount of joy is too much," she added, turning around to regard the phoenix once again, only to sigh sadly when she saw it had gone, "It felt bad…it did not want to give us too much happiness."

"I am sorry," the warrior murmured, and then smiled, brushing his lips against the side of her neck, feeling her shudder and relax in his arms, "Perhaps it just wanted to give us privacy?"

Nuala turned back towards him then, and her regrets were instantly lost in their next kiss. This time the fairies deemed it best to leave the two elves, who were very much taken up with each other. The princess was truly amazed by the way his body felt, how his lips moved with hers…and the kiss itself. She had never imagined it was possible to take so much pleasure from touching someone – however entangled they were –, from being held in his arms and kissing him. Even when the kiss ended, they remained against each other, swaying slowly, Nuada watching the princess intently though her eyes were closed.

"You understood," he realised eventually.

"Understood what?" Nuala asked softly, keeping her eyes closed, enjoying the ability to take pleasure from simply touching him, not just seeing him. It was then that she realised the very sound of his voice made her heart race, and she felt weak as new, strange feelings streaked down her body. She bit her lip at the sensation, only for the warrior to run his tongue over that lip, freeing it from pain.

"You understood what I meant when I spoke of not being familiar with joy," Nuada elaborated after a moment, "You have known the lack of it, too."

"The feeling of missing something; of not being whole," the princess nodded.

"But it went away…"

"…The second I saw you," Nuala finished for him, finally opening her eyes to see him staring at her in wonder.

"Something…pulled me to you. I always wanted to follow that pull, to learn what it was that I was missing. No, I _needed _to. I know now I had to be here, to be with you. But I know, I knew…only how to fight, and I fought it off," he sighed.

"I felt that, too," Nuala smiled, "I thought only I could sense it," she trailed off there, glancing away nervously.

"Another admission?" Nuada guessed, and when the princess nodded he kissed her – something that lasted for longer than they intended it to, "I'll be good," he promised, and the dark look in his eyes suggested there was more than one interpretation for those words.

"I…I had dreams of you before we met. Only, I dreamed of being in you, of seeing through your eyes. I saw this tree, and then many months later I saw a terrible battle."

"Then the strange dreams I had were of you?" Nuada murmured more to himself than to the princess, "They were dreams of emotions, and I never saw anything, just darkness and points of bright light, like stars, only I knew they were not. Such sadness, such longing. I knew even then that I had to hold you, comfort you; I knew even then that I care for you."

For a long time, neither spoke, both lost in their own thoughts – or at least as much as they could be when they were so close to each other. Soon, though, the warrior looked up, and the pained expression on his face was enough to worry Nuala.

"What is it?" she asked.

"In your dream, you said you saw a battle through my eyes. How much did you see?"

"All of it," the princess admitted, unwilling to truly think of that particular sight, but still it returned to her: the warrior had mercilessly cut off the head of the human prince.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to see that," Nuada whispered.

As he spoke, the warrior pulled her closer, and the princess was surprised to feel tears streaking down her face. Before she could stop herself, she hid her face against his shoulder and truly began to cry. It was not long before she realised her sobs were not entirely in relation to the battle; they were for everything, every moment of loneliness she had felt. Never before had anyone taken the time to truly care about whether something upset her or not. Finally, she realised the world was colder, less caring, than she had thought it to be.

"They said I was cold. The heartless…" here she narrowly avoided saying her title, "They never comforted me when I was hurt as a child, and no one cared when I saw death for the first time, not even my own…father."

"The world is heartless, not you," Nuada promised, "No one cares more than you do, no one is more deserving of care than you."

During the silence that followed, the princess's thoughts turned back to the memory of the battle she had witnessed and the human prince she had seen the warrior kill so viciously.

"He had a family," Nuala said before she could stop herself, and the warrior froze.

"Nuala, he was trying to kill us all. Would you rather loose the world you love so much to the humans than fight for that very place?"

Upon hearing these words, and remembering where she had heard a similar sentiment before, the princess pulled back. Standing, she turned away proudly, watching the trees and wishing the phoenix had never gone.

"Yes," she told him firmly, "All of this fighting is needless. I would rather lose this world to the humans than have it destroyed by Elvish greed."

"_Elvish _greed? It is not greed that drives us to fight back against those who seek to steal from us the place in which we have lived for millennia!" the warrior cried, also on his feet by now. Nuala was glad she could not see his expression; her heart was pounding already just from the tone of his voice. She felt trapped, almost scared, even more so when he spoke again, "Men such as that…creature I killed are not worthy to be called princes."

"And who are you to judge whether a prince is worthy, human or not?" she asked sharply, turning around to dare look into his eyes and wish she had not. His expression flashed with fury, his fists clenched tightly, and he glared at her. Once again, such intensity of emotion was totally unfamiliar to the princess, and she took a quick step back.

"Who are you to presume to tell me who to judge?" the warrior snapped back. Both of the two began to speak, to elaborate, and then both stopped, thinking better of it.

Growling in frustration, Nuada turned around sharply, sitting among the roots of the tree and facing away from the princess, breathing hard with barely contained fury. Nuala also found that she was shaking, not quite sure whether what she felt was anger or just fright.

Sighing to try and calm her breathing and her heart, the princess began to bring a hand up to move aside some of her hair that had fallen across her face, but paused with a pained gasp when her hand caught on a tree branch. Surprised, she blinked at the scratch as tiny beads of blood began to well up. The warrior seemed to flinch, too, and a brief moment of silence ensued.

"Nuala," the warrior's voice was suddenly calm…worryingly so. She turned to regard him, and saw that he was standing once more, staring at her injured hand. Confused, she just looked back at him for a long moment before realising what was wrong.

"Your hand," the princess gasped, seeing an identical scratch on Nuada's right hand; it was not a mirror image, but exactly the same.

"What…" he seemed frozen, not understanding.

Nuala gasped for a second time when she finally linked everything together, bringing her unwounded hand up to her mouth in surprise, "The dream of the tree," she murmured, "The bruise on your hand, the bruise on mine…the battle, our recoveries took exactly the same length of time."

"I do not understand," Nuada said needlessly, "_Our _recoveries?"

"Yes. I was standing in the…palace, perfectly well, and then the next second I found I was on the floor. The blood…" she stopped speaking when the warrior approached, comprehension finally coming to him.

"Then we truly are linked," he whispered, "And yet you disagree so strongly with me. It hurts," he stopped moving closer, but there was very little space between them – the princess felt that if she took a deep breath, they would certainly be touching.

"Please, don't say that," she groaned softly, bringing a hand to his face and pausing without touching when he looked away, "I'm sorry, I do not want to hurt you…in any way," she added, glancing at her hand.

"Nuala," the warrior's tone was full of exasperation once more, and he turned back, taking her face in his hands and staring deep into her eyes, "I know it hurts you, too. So tell me! I can't let you always care only about others. It hurts me that you will not admit your own pain."

Once again, the princess felt tears welling in her eyes, and the warrior looked despairingly at her reaction. Frowning, he let go of her and began to turn away; only the princess took hold of him quickly, pulling him back around to face her and kissing him hard. He had intended to try not to react, but that idea proved instantly obsolete, and such passion took the two over that the world seemed to spin away, and the ground had reversed its place with the sky.

Nuala was only brought back to reality when she felt something tugging gently on her hair, and she turned around unwillingly to regard a fairy flapping its arms frantically at her. Before she could ask it what it wanted, she heard a familiar voice sound close by, calling her name insistently.

"No," she groaned, turning back to the warrior and kissing him again, more gently, and lingered there.

"You are wanted elsewhere," he reminded her, stepping back with a sigh, "Find me tonight."

"How?"

"The same way I found you, Nuala. Follow the pull," he smiled suddenly, taking hold of her hand and slowly drawing her closer, pressing his lips to the scratch, "Find me," he whispered again, and then he was gone, just as she had been at the practice areas the day before.

"Princess Nuala?" the call came again, once more unmistakably the voice of Ethlinn, "Where are you?"

"Here, Ethlinn," the princess sighed, wincing at the loud use of her title and glancing back at the circle of trees in the vain hope of seeing the warrior.

Eventually the healer became visible, stumbling into the clearing having expected the forest to continue as thickly as before. After a dizzied moment of regaining her bearings, staring in awe at the beautiful tree presiding over the clearing, she finally saw Nuala. Glancing away almost nervously, Ethlinn sighed in relief, and the princess noticed the healer was out of breath. So her companion was not used to the forest, was she?

"Ah, princess!" Ethlinn managed to pant, "The king requires your presence in the throne room. He has been asking for you all morning…" Ethlinn paused there, blinking in surprise at the princess.

"Ethlinn?" Nuala asked nervously.

"Princess…you have been crying," the healer uttered the words quietly, as if the very idea of such a thing was total madness, "Has anything amiss befallen?"

"No, healer," Nuala denied, quickly turning away and wiping the tears from her face with her hand. It had been immediately obvious to her that Ethlinn was behaving strangely; her tone of concern now seemed false.

It was with sorrow that the princess realised for a short time she had hoped the healer might actually become something of a friend to her, but her perception told her something had changed. Ethlinn could no longer be trusted, and with that decision, everything began to make sense to Nuala. Her father thought she was close to discovering something he had kept a secret, and he wanted spies to ensure she would come no nearer to working it out. It occurred to Nuala that the fairies knew far more about her than any other living creatures – with the one exception of the warrior. They could have been perfect informants to the king, except that they only ever gave cryptic answers to straight questions, and would not respond at all otherwise.

Perhaps Ethlinn sensed Nuala's realisation, because an awkward silence followed in which the healer would not meet the princess's eyes. The former seemed to have given up trying to pretend everything was as it had been, and did not even try to hide the guilty expression on her face.

"Shall we go?" Nuala suggested eventually, turning back in the direction of the palace before the healer could reply, "Since my father wishes to speak with me."

Ethlinn said nothing further as they walked back to the palace, and an air of dejectedness surrounded her. She could not bring herself to betray the princess outright, but that meant she was dangerously close to betraying the king and in so doing losing the life she had been brought up for. She was more than glad to leave the princess at the top of the steps leading down to the antechamber of the throne room, and did not stay to hear any words that were spoken.

Meanwhile, Nuala was admitted into the throne room without a word – even the Chamberlain said nothing, simply gesturing for her to enter. Once inside the hall, the king's council were all assembled in the stands to either side of the room, every eye in the room trained on the princess. No one moved; she could sense there was something very wrong. They all thought she was going to be told the truth of the secret she knew nothing of, but Nuala could see her father's relaxed expression, and realised she would be learning nothing of the sort that day.

"My daughter, you have finally returned to the palace," King Balor smiled, and the cold look in his eyes made the princess rethink her view of his expression. She could remember having seen that expression only once before: when he had warned her never to follow the will o' the wisp, and to beware the spirits of the forest, "I cannot help but wonder, Nuala, what it is that keeps you from the palace through both the night and the morning. Especially in light of our most recent news relating to the humans."

"The humans?" the princess could feel dread beginning to well up, "Surely not another battle?"

"Not as yet, no, daughter," Balor was quick to promise, "But I feel I must tell of this latest discovery due to your habit of staying away from your home without warning for so long," he paused then, giving her a severe look, "The humans have put up a settlement directly on the border with the forest and the land, in the small patch of land they managed to take from us in the recent battles."

Nuala found herself surprised by the subject of the king's information, and so simply nodded. She felt little concern regarding this matter; in fact even as Balor proceeded to remind her of his many warnings regarding the humans, the princess felt an increasing interest in this new town.

Wondering where her new tendency for defiance had come from, Nuala left the throne room not long later, gaining knowledge of the whereabouts of the human settlement from a surprised servant. Immediately she headed back out to the forest, alone this time, without even the company of the fairies. It was with some confusion that she realised she had never taken a decision like this before; she was going to the new human settlement, without even really considering what she was truly doing. Despite her lack of concern, the Elvish fears of that species were still there.

Her walk to the settlement – on the southeastern border of the forest – was a long one, but the princess's thoughts were distracted enough that she did not notice. The sun was bright, and every time she felt its warmth, Nuala was reminded of her awakening in the morning. She was still smiling to herself when the change in the area became known to her.

The air grew thicker, bringing with it the foul smell of dirt and smoke, visible as a grey haze to Nuala's Elvish eyes. For a moment she paused, uncertain for the first time in her journey, horrified by the conditions in which the humans lived. Eventually, she decided to continue, though every step was taken with noticeably more difficulty.

Only when the sounds of the town began drifting nearer did Nuala feel apprehension. Instantly she could feel the pull on her heart again, tugging insistently at her being, reminding her, promising her everything, trying to make her turn back for the Elvish palace. This feeling did not abate as loud voices emanated from the nearing town, raucous laughter followed, and Nuala began to regret her decision to go to the settlement.

There were so many voices nearby as the princess reached the edge of the forest that she felt dizzy, and as soon as the ranks of trees thinned enough for her to see the settlement, her automatic reaction was to turn away in disgust. No grass grew on the churned, muddy ground around the large cone shaped structures of earth and straw clustered at the bottom of the slope leading away from the forest. Even the humans themselves were dirty, small, bent figures milling about the town, carrying wood or water, and sometimes worse. Their clothes and their hair were darkened with filth, almost as badly so as their faces and hands.

Nuala could even make out some distant figures on the fields beyond the settlement, moving about the land, which was devoid of all other visible life, save for a sea of tall, yellowish plants swaying slowly in the breeze. She remembered her father telling her of such areas; farmland, the destructive source of food the humans used, felling whole forests to maintain themselves. Much closer to the princess stood crookedly put together enclosures of wood surrounding groups of pigs and other animals the humans used as sustenance.

For a long moment the princess simply stared in horror at the ugly, dirty scene laid out before her. She could not believe that any living beings would live like that, and certainly not that they would force other animals, 'livestock' as they called them, to suffer the same torment. So it was with more than a little uncertainty that Nuala took another step forwards, out of the cover of the trees, reaching her hand out as if to touch an invisible screen in front of her. Daring to close her eyes, she allowed herself to sense what she could of the town. At first there was very little, just a vague sense of discomfort, and then the pain of the trees invaded her thoughts; the misery of the livestock; the emptiness of the humans who had created those feelings. Crying out automatically, the princess snatched her hand back, opening her eyes quickly and retreating back to the line of trees.

Feeling much less confident in her own safety so close to the settlement, Nuala looked back at the cluster of dirty houses, and saw a pair of eyes staring right back at her. The one regarding her was standing by the fencing surrounding the pigs, emptying a woven basket only partially filled with meagre scraps of meat into the enclosure.

The human who had seen Nuala was small, wrapped in dirty brown cloth that served as an over-large dress of sorts. From this the princess could determine the one looking straight at her was female, and a moment later realised that this person's hair was not covered in dirt at all. It was naturally a light, soil-coloured brown, held back tightly with a cloth and yet still flowing in dishevelled curls to her elbows. The woman's skin looked rough to Elvish eyes, worn and tanned by long hours spent toiling in the sun and smudged with mud and grime. Still, her eyes were a startlingly vivid blue, set in a gaunt, angular, thin-lipped face. Confusion clouded her expression as she half turned back towards the buildings, eyes still on Nuala, her mouth partly opened as if to call to her kin.

The princess also turned back the way she had come, ready to escape should the woman alert her kin. Her heart was pounding – not only in fear, but with the need to return to the palace; even in such an uncertain situation, Nuala found herself longing for the warrior. It was with a feeling almost of shame that she realised her hand was aching – not from the injury there, but from where Nuada had kissed it.

The seconds seemed to stretch, and both elf and human felt as though they remained frozen, half way to escape or seeking help, for a considerable time. Eventually, the human woman sighed, turning back towards Nuala and keeping eye contact as she slowly put down the basket she was still holding. Then, with a quick glance back at the settlement, she took a step forwards. The princess flinched, but otherwise did not move.

Several steps closer, the human woman spoke, her language sounding clumsy and slow to Nuala. The princess continued to stare, and still did not move. When there was no comprehension in the eyes of the Elf, the woman frowned thoughtfully, then pointed to herself.

"Maeve," she uttered the word slowly, her voice clear with gaining confidence, even smiling slightly when Nuala tilted her head in thought, then nodded slightly in recognition of a name. A moment of silence followed, and then the woman, Maeve, gestured towards the princess, asking a brief question.

"Nuala," the princess responded, finally catching on to the fact that the human wanted to know her name.

Maeve truly did smile then, at the sound of the Elf's voice, and the expression lit up her face. She took another few cautious steps closer, until only the first row of trees separated the human and Nuala. They could not cross over that point by law of both species, though the princess had done so in order to inspect the settlement.

"Maeve!" a low voice called from the bottom of the hill, and the woman turned around sharply, making Nuala jump in fright.

More words followed, and the princess unwillingly looked past her newest acquaintance to see a tall, fair-haired human man standing on the churned ground of the settlement. He looked awkward and ungainly to the Elvish princess, his weathered skin lending him a harsh look though he was probably young among his kind. A large, curved dagger was sheathed on his belt, and at the sight of it Nuala recoiled further into the trees with a frightened gasp. She did not trust the human men; she had seen them fighting in Nuada's memories, and just as the Elvish warriors unsettled her, so did the men of the humans. Even more disturbingly, she had seen them fighting against her kind, against her warrior.

"No," Nuala shook her head quickly when Maeve turned around to regard her without comprehension, "I must leave," she uttered those words as she remembered her previous argument with the warrior.

Without looking back to see if the man had noticed her, the Elvish princess turned and darted back into the deep forest, drawn unerringly back to the palace. Despite her fear at the new – and unfamiliarly miserable – sight, she found herself smiling; she had proved Nuada wrong! She had conversed with a human and seen no hostility there, only the same confusion and uncertainty as she had felt. So it was with a feeling of great relief that she promised herself she would return to the settlement the next day.

* * *

"Maeve! Who…_what _was that?" Fionn, the fair-haired man Nuala had seen, asked as the human woman reached the bottom of the hill.

"I have no idea," Maeve admitted, staring dazedly back up at the forest, "An Elf, I think. But I think you scared her away."

"An _Elf_?" the man gasped in horror, glancing back nervously to the place he had last seen the beautiful, pale figure among the trees, "You should have called the men immediately! Such creatures are not to be trusted; I barely got away with my life in the last battle we fought. Their warriors are terrifying to behold…with movement so fast it mesmerises those who watch, so graceful one can hardly believe they are fighting at all, and merely dancing."

"So I have heard you telling my father, Fionn, but the one I saw then was no warrior, but in fact a maid, more beautiful than any creature I have seen before. There was no anger in her eyes, nothing but curiosity and wonder," Maeve's own amazement was clear to see as she spoke, and the man by her side frowned, shaking his head.

"Does it not occur to you there might be some reason other than curiosity that brought her here?" he asked quickly, taking his companion by the arm and turning her back towards their settlement, "Such beings, however innocent and beautiful they seem, are never trustworthy."

"I know that, but it seems unlikely the elves would send one of their maids to us."

"Truly?" Fionn raised an eyebrow sceptically, "That plan seems the most likely to me. Such creatures of the forest are fickle, and will use any means to lure away unwitting humans."

"Then why would they send her to me? I am not a man, who would be easily lured by one such as her, I promise you," Maeve pointed out.

"Then your father must be informed, Maeve; as chief of our village, he will know what to do."

Unwillingly, the woman nodded, and turned with Fionn towards the largest of the round houses in the small village, not far from where they stood. Still, she could not help glancing back up at the trees once more before following the man to the low, rounded doorway cut into the side of the house she and her father shared.

Realising that any hesitation she made would seem suspicious to those already within, Maeve stepped inside without pause, her eyes quickly accustoming to the dim light. Automatically, she placed the basket she had been carrying by the door space, and looked across the room. Only the glow from the central fire illuminated the large space, showing the shape of one bed to the left, with another larger one set in an alcove directly across from Maeve. There her father stood, facing away, and searching through a small basket. From the rattling within, that was the container holding his carpentry tools.

"Cíaran," Fionn cried, and the man in question turned around in surprise, almost dropping the box of tools he was holding.

"Fionn! You startled me! And you come to me with Maeve, my daughter," the man glanced between the two with small, watchful dark eyes set in a long, deeply wrinkled and pockmarked face, "And you seem uneasy. You must tell me what it is that troubles you immediately."

"Yes, chief," Fionn nodded, making his way quickly to the older man's side, "An Elf, from the forest, came to Maeve today…"

"Did he cross over the border between our land and the forest?" Cíaran demanded, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"No, father, and it was not a 'he' at all, but a she," Maeve informed quickly before Fionn continued the story. Throughout the account, the chief's expression became increasingly dark, and the grim, calculating smile on his weathered face was more than worrying for his daughter.

"You did the right thing in warning her, Fionn," Cíaran nodded, clapping the other man on the shoulder, his eyes staring intently into the fire, "And so I must ask you to keep an eye on what goes on tomorrow, when the Elf maid comes again."

"What…you think the creature will return?"

"Undoubtedly so. Maeve, I want you to be in exactly the same place at the same time tomorrow. Converse as you did before; I am asking nothing more of you."

"Then you are condoning what happened today? You think it is acceptable for Maeve to risk her life in such a way?" Fionn asked in horror, and Cíaran frowned.

"No, there will be no risk to her. I merely need to see this creature for myself, and to decide what course of action is the most appropriate to take," once again there was that smile, and it made Maeve's blood run cold.

* * *

The sun was setting by the time that Nuala noticed the thinning of the trees, and she could hear the distant rustling and calling of awakening nocturnal creatures. Fairies had once more joined her, weaving excitedly among the leaves around the princess, chattering amongst themselves in speculation of her long absence. She paid them no attention, for the pull leading her to the warrior was tugging insistently on her being, to the point where little else she could sense mattered to her.

Off in the distance came a long, mournful howl, echoing through the landscape as others answered. Startled, not having realised truly how late it was, Nuala glanced nervously over her shoulder, not slowing her quick walk back to the palace. When she looked back around, it was in time to walk straight into another Elf, a silhouette against the setting sun. The princess cried out in surprise, stumbling back a few steps before she recognised the one in front of her, and the fact that the pull had gone away entirely.

"Nuada!" she gasped, her hand automatically settling over her own heart when its pace refused to slow, increasing its pounding as she regarded him. The bright smile on her face was unfamiliar, and Nuala glanced away, embarrassed, in time only to see that the warrior's previously hard expression had softened somewhat. His tone, however, was less gentle.

"You went to the human settlement," he stated, and the sudden harshness with which he said it made Nuala jump.

"Yes," she admitted in a whisper.

"Why? Why would you risk yourself like that? To prove me wrong, I suppose, and come back with news of their kindness and beauty and strength of honour. Let me tell you this before you begin to _dare _to defend yourself," he snapped, and the princess drew back, tears filling her eyes, even as she looked up, her pride stirred by his words, "I lost one of my dearest friends to your beloved humans. He was the first of our kind that I saw die, but not the last. I killed that pathetic human prince for their murders, and I do not regret anything. Now I wish you had seen it all, so that you would understand the magnitude of my hatred for their kind. There is nothing good in them, there is no hope for the world given their constant onslaught on our peace," the warrior's eyes were flashing with anger, but the princess did not fail to notice the glitter of tears, threatening to spill over onto the his face. Her pride deflated, her sorrow doubled, she stepped forwards nervously, and Nuada did not move when she reached out and touched him.

"I'm sorry," she told him softly, "Don't be angry with me, please. I did not do this to prove you wrong, or unsettle you in any way. I was merely curious to see if they truly were as barbaric as all the tales say they are. I did not mean to speak with one…" here Nuala paused, putting a hand over the warrior's mouth when he tried to comment on this. He simply closed his eyes, and the princess spoke again, "She was a female, slumped and dirty just like the rest of them, but she showed no anger or hostility, simply confusion and interest, as I felt. I learned her name…but a human man saw us, and I left instantly. I could not stay to see him, not after everything I have witnessed."

"Nuala," the warrior sighed, moving her hand away slowly, "You allow your curiosity to put you in danger. There was no one to help you, no protection you could have sought had they come after you…"

"And is that all the more disturbing for you now that you realise we may well be bound together by our very lives? That for whatever reason, your pain is mine, and mine is yours?" the princess had tried not to make the words sound like an accusation, but the strength of her conviction that she had done nothing wrong caused her to do just that.

"No!" Nuada groaned, "No, it does not! It worries me that my…that the king will send me away to fight again, and if I die, will you? I cannot abide that thought; my death would be akin to committing your murder myself. No, I simply do not want you to put yourself in harm because you are precious to me; because I love you," here his voice trailed away, his eyes staring into hers with absolute sincerity, and yet she could sense he was surprised by his own admission.

The princess felt her breath catch in her throat, more tears burning in her eyes and spilling over onto her cheeks; only these were tears of joy come to wash away the earlier drops of sadness and pain. They forgot their argument and their sadness with the utterance of those words, as the warrior so gently put his arms around her. For the first time Nuala was truly aware of his strength as he held back the need to pull her more tightly against himself.

"I love you," she agreed fervently.

The warrior's answering smile was as beautiful to her as their next kiss was passionate. They were both only vaguely aware of allowing themselves to fall to the ground, to go closer, and kiss deeper. Nuala found that she was desperate for something more, her whole body seemed to burn with that need; she could feel the warrior was shaking with it, too.

Neither of the two elves realised how close they were to the edge of the forest nor that Ethlinn, standing close by, had seen every action and heard every word. The healer was quick to turn away and hurry to the throne room, dreading the betrayal she was about to enact almost as much as she feared the wrath of the king.

"I _will_ go again tomorrow," the princess told Nuada quietly when they finally drew apart a little.

"You surprise me little," he admitted, running a hand through her hair and wondering at how suddenly they had found one another; a matter of days before.

"Then you are not angry with me?" Nuala asked in surprise, and the warrior shook his head.

"No, I am never angry with you," he promised, "And this time you will not be going alone."


	6. The King's News

**The King's News**

Cíaran had never seen any being more beautiful in the whole of his life. He felt dazed by the very sight of her, and it became difficult even to breathe. Of course Maeve had been right that such a creature as that would easily enchant those who beheld her; he had been ready for as much and was careful to keep his distance. So far she seemed to have remained oblivious to his observation, seated as she was on the very edge of the trees, cross-legged opposite Maeve, who remained on the human side of the ground.

Feeling safe in his position, down the line of trees and further down the hill, close to the building where the oxen were kept, Cíaran continued to stare and take in the beauty of the remarkable creature attempting to converse with his daughter.

The Elf maiden that had so captured his attention was tall – perhaps taller than he was – and he had noticed this the moment she appeared among the trees. She was delicately built, clad in a flawless dress of shimmering blue, silver patterns coiling around the garment's long sleeves and high neck.

Perhaps the most shocking of her features to the human man was her smooth, unblemished skin, which was a perfect, snowy white, dazzlingly pale in the midday sun. Similarly surprising, her shimmering hair hung straight down a little past her shoulders, ice white, though golden at the tips. Her eyes were large, and of a dark, vivid topaz shade, staring at Maeve almost as if she could not comprehend such a being could exist.

The Elf's movements were graceful, her expression serene; she did not seem to have any of the nervousness Cíaran would have expected. After all, Maeve and Fionn had told him the maid had fled at the sight of the latter the previous day. Even before that, they had said, her movements had been cautious and swift, like a bird contemplating flight.

Fionn had also noticed the Elvish maid's sudden decision in favour of confidence, and had warned Cíaran from going closer to her. No one could be so relaxed alone in the company of those their kind had been so recently fighting. Though he agreed with the sentiment, the older man had found himself drawn nearer anyway, and the more he saw of the creature, the more he felt himself enchanted by her beauty.

So it was that Cíaran slowly began to inch his way closer; at first walking around the side of the hut, as if working on something by the wall, and then becoming bolder, stepping towards the line of trees. As he left the safety of the building, he could hear Fionn's distant, insistent whispers, trying to urge him back to the safety of obscurity, but he ignored the words.

"Cíaran! She is not alone – look behind you!" those words certainly did reach the village chief's consciousness, and he spun around in time to see a figure of deepest midnight and purest white vanishing back among the leaves. For a confused moment, Cíaran just blinked at the apparently undisturbed branches, wondering where the impression of a silver flash still shimmering in his eyes had come from. Then he saw two furious eyes watching him, their hue the exact same as the Elvish maid's but otherwise of a totally different appearance. The figure beyond the trees was nothing more than a vague outline, but imposing nonetheless, and when the man blinked again, the shape had gone.

Meanwhile, Maeve had noticed Nuala's eyes flicker to the side, towards Cíaran, and the human woman turned around to regard her father in time to see him spinning around sharply to stare with obvious fear into the forest. The Elvish maid gasped at the sight of the man and for a moment seemed frozen with indecision.

Close by, leaves rustled almost imperceptibly, and it was Maeve's turn to jump in fright, scrambling hastily to her feet when she heard a low voice sound from among the trees. The tone was gentle, and yet somehow urgent, the words just as beautiful as when the Elvish maid spoke them.

Maeve watched in utter amazement as a second Elf stepped into her view, this one staying steadfastly within the boundary of the forest. The human understood why immediately; this being was male, and armed, too. She could see he carried two sheathed swords – one on each hip – but did not doubt there were more blades concealed on his person. For there was nothing innocent or curious about this second Elf; he exuded danger to Maeve just from the way he stood. He seemed tense, as if ready to spring at any moment.

"Nuala!" the warrior's voice was insistent now, his hand outstretched towards the Elvish maid, who took it instantly, allowing him to pull her easily to her feet, drawing her against him and putting an arm around her shoulders. This clearly protective behaviour caused Maeve to stare open-mouthed; Fionn had told her that the Elves were heartless, that they probably cared nothing even for their own kind if such feelings meant risking their own lives.

The woman eventually looked over to her father, who stood staring, just as she had, at the Elves, and the expression of intimidation on his face suggested that his look was returned by the warrior among the two creatures. When Maeve returned her gaze to the trees, there was nothing but empty darkness and still leaves ahead of her.

"Father!" she cried in horror, "Have you not just ruined your own plan to observe the Elf? Will we ever know now whether she – they – meant us harm or not?"

"Is that what you would wish to learn?" Fionn asked in return, coming up from nearby, his gaze also on Cíaran, whose eyes remained glazed, the ugly smile having returned to his face, "She certainly was not alone, and I would like to add that the warrior looked very unwilling to risk her with our company."

"Then we will have to relieve her of _his _company," Cíaran put in quietly, smirking at the two other humans before turning back to the forest.

"Father, surely you do not mean to…"

"I mean to act how I wish, girl," he reminded her before crossing over the boundary and vanishing into the trees after the two Elves.

Then all was silent, and Maeve could only stare after her father in utter horror, beginning to realise what his true intentions for Nuala were.

* * *

Nuada had remained nervous as they made their way through the forest, always looking around himself. The princess realised this was more than natural caution – he thought they were being followed. Personally she could detect nothing amiss, but was careful to stay close to the warrior, trusting his judgement.

When they reached the Dream Tree – almost a halfway point between the Elvish palace and the human settlement – everything happened too quickly for Nuala to comprehend. There was a slight movement beyond, in the clearing, and instantly Nuada was gone through the veil of leaves, his spear already moving outwards for his target. A moment later then it surprised the princess to hear low, familiar laughter, and instantly she recognised the king.

With a gasp of surprise, Nuala also stepped into the clearing, in time to see the warrior sheathing his once more sword-length spear. Balor was standing nearby, his stance surprisingly relaxed, expression coldly amused. He did not even look towards his daughter, but continued to regard Nuada, whose head was bowed, face turned away from the princess.

"Nuada, you should be more careful with that aggression of yours. You would not want to spear your own king would you?" here King Balor did glance over at Nuala, before speaking once more to the warrior, "After all, it would be the same as killing your own _father_…would you do that?" hearing these words, Nuada flinched, still not looking around.

Only after this did the king turn towards Nuala, his expression more gentle, and as he regarded her, the look became increasingly unhappy. For a moment Balor truly seemed old – an uncommon illusion among the immortal Elves – as he sighed, shaking his head wearily and looking away from his beloved daughter. She merely stared in confusion and mounting fear concerning what she was about to hear.

"It pains me, Nuala, it truly does, to have to explain to you what surely must already be so obvious by now," the king admitted, careful to keep his gaze fixed firmly upon the ground.

"I do not understand…" the princess began, trying to quell the feeling of dismay rising within her. The warrior still had not moved, but she could see from his shuddering breathing that he was not as calm as he seemed; he had understood what she could not.

"Then you leave it to me, as your father, to explain it to you," Balor closed his eyes with a sigh when the warrior growled in anger, and Nuala gasped as a sharp pain shot through her palm. Upon inspection, she saw a thin stream of blood trickling from a fresh wound to the ground. She had been right; Nuada truly was not as calm as he had tried to outwardly seem.

"What is it?" she demanded, trying to ignore the pain that would not cease in her hand, but Balor did not seem prepared to answer her question outright.

"Why of all the Elves in this world did you choose him, Nuala? Of all the hundreds of people around you, why did it have to be the one I had taken such pains to keep from you? If you had just been willing to admit your true standing in the realm to one you considered to be simply a warrior in my army; if you had been less ashamed of your heritage, none of this would ever have happened. Or would it? I begin to wonder now I see the way you look to him. You have not been brought up to understand the concept of a real family – neither of you," the king sighed again, "Perhaps I was wrong; perhaps you should never have been separated so harshly. Your mother certainly would not have agreed with the decision I took, but I was so…grieved…" here Balor stopped suddenly, putting a hand over his eyes and shuddering.

"Then you are a hypocritical fool, 'king' or not," Nuada told him fiercely, and the princess just stared at the warrior in horror for speaking those words. No one had ever showed such disrespect to royalty in her presence, and it surprised her when the king did not respond to the insult, as he surely would have done to any ordinary warrior.

"Separated? When?" Nuala asked in a whisper, but the king remained silent for some time, and the princess found her eyes drawn once more to the warrior as he finally seemed to realise the damage he had been doing to his hand – to their hands. Surprised, and guilty, he looked up to meet her eyes, and the ensuing silence was telling to the king.

"I will not have you look at each other in such a way in my presence!" he raged suddenly, the reaction so violent that the princess took several frightened steps back, and the warrior's expression darkened with fury enough to match Balor's – and more – when he saw that the king had upset Nuala.

"When?" the princess asked again, already fearing she knew the answer.

"You were taken away from each other at birth, Nuala," Balor groaned eventually, "The midnight and the dawn that killed your mother. And it is true that in the past there have been cases in our land of families…joining with themselves, but how long did such practises last? True, it even happened within our own – royal – family, but never again, and not between two so linked, for you are bound by your very lives and deaths," he looked pointedly at Nuala's blood-stained fingers, but she did not follow his gaze, stricken with the shock of what he was telling her as she was, so the king continued, "It amazes me that neither of you could realise the truth of your relationship sooner. Even your names; they are surprisingly similar for coincidence, wouldn't you say? And those dreams, Nuala, surely you did not think that was _chance_? Certainly, the link of an injury for an injury, that was some clue?" as he spoke the king became increasingly agitated, turning away from the other two Elves and walking to the edge of the clearing, "Even your appearances…So yes, Nuala, he is your _brother_; the prince."

"Why?" the word shook so much as she said it that the princess had to pause, but her question earned her a disparaging look from the king, so she quickly elaborated, "I mean, why did you…separate us?"

"Because of a prophecy," Balor replied quietly, and Nuada gave a sharp, humourless laugh at the tone of his father's voice, "Your mother was dying from the burden of you both, and I could not stand it to see her that way. I felt I had to find a way to cheat death; the idea of the end of life is abhorrent to us, as you well know, for we enter this world expecting immortality. So it was that I sought out the Angel of Death, the creature in this world that dwells in the home of true evil, wherever that may be at any time…"

"You sought out a _prophecy _to try and save my – our – mother?" Nuada asked disbelievingly, "Such predictions of the future are fickle, father, and the immortals know better than anyone that death cannot be cheated."

"That was a lesson I learned the hard way, my children," the king admitted, and Nuala felt a chill run down her spine at the use of the collective word, more at the memory of the way Balor had so railed against their love than anything else, "For I was given a prophecy, but too late. Your mother was already dead, the 'Child of the Dawn' already born; the five long hours between your births had killed her. The prophecy spoke only of my two children, and of the…feelings they would share. In an attempt to stop this and its consequences, I separated you."

The finality with which the king spoke those words suggested they would not be hearing what the prophecy had been. Balor spared a glance at each of his two children – Nuala staring teary eyed at the ground ahead, quivering visibly, Nuada comparatively unmoving, his face once more turned away from her, eyes closed, breathing hard. Realising there was little he could do to help the situation, the king sighed for a third, weary time, and joined his waiting guards deeper in the trees, heading back to the palace with a heavy heart.

For several heartbeats more, the twins – as they then found themselves to be – remained the same way in which their father had left them. Then, eventually, Prince Nuada turned to regard his sister, and she responded in almost exactly the way he had dreaded. With a stifled sob, the princess brought one hand to her mouth, the other resting over her heart, as if trying to hold back the yearning and the love she felt, and then when this did not work, simply turned and fled into the trees.

Alone again. He felt so alone all over again after such brief moments, or so it seemed, of peace. For a short while, he had actually hoped a simple, untroubled love could be his. As a prince, even one brought up away from the palace – for reasons he had never known until a matter of seconds earlier – such a dream had been unlikely for, and yet also expected of, him.

With a groan, the warrior fell to his knees on the sun-bathed grass and contemplated how the air tried so heartlessly to crush him.

* * *

Princess Nuala did not know what she was supposed to think. The king had all but decreed that his two children could not continue the relationship they had begun. She had never truly wished to actively disobey her father because she disagreed with his decision, but on this particular subject, she found her loyalties torn. Such a love was, as the king had admitted, not unheard of among the Elves, but it was also certainly not condoned. Regardless of this, the princess found herself caring little for what was considered correct or not, though she knew she should.

Thus with tears streaking her face did Nuala soon find herself in the gardens of the palace, and every stare from her kin was one she felt almost with physical pain. They were not used to seeing her showing her emotions, and so every tear that fell was one regarded with far too much interest. Whispering began among them, and she felt like screaming; how long had they known of her brother? Had they kept this from her? All of them?

"My lady! What has happened? Why are you crying?" Ethlinn's voice called, and Nuala perceived the healer hurrying towards her, reaching the princess as they both stepped within the corridor of arched trees. Ethlinn's feigned innocence was lost on Nuala, who refused to meet the healer's eyes.

At such a swift pace, it was not long before the princess reached the doorway of her chambers. For a long moment she simply stood there, her hand on the door handle, breathing in fast, unsteady gasps. She turned longingly back towards the forest, shuddering, and then quickly stepped into her room, as if staying outside any longer would tempt her too much to return to the warrior.

Emboldened by her need to rid herself of guilt, Ethlinn followed the princess inside, and Nuala truly did not seem to care whether she had the company of the healer or not. She simply closed the door, leaning against the wood with closed eyes, looking like she could not possibly stand without its support.

"You did say that you had always wanted a brother," the healer could not help pointing out eventually, disliking the silent misery into which the princess had descended. Ethlinn had not been prepared for the truly venomous look she received for those words.

Princess Nuala was not one often moved to acts of violent emotion – if she ever felt anything, she was used to simply masking her thoughts. This particular subject was different, however, because she had already left her emotions regarding it vulnerable, and it was as if what reserve she had possessed had been broken down completely.

"You would say that, healer," Nuala said sharply – ironically, she looked more like her brother in that moment than she ever had before or ever would again, "Your own guilt weighs visibly on your shoulders. And I did not say I wanted _him _as my brother! No, not him! Anyone, anything, but him! How can I live like that? How can I think of him that way? I do not just love him, I am _in_ love _with_ him! I take it back! I take back ever saying I wanted a brother! I take it back," with this cry, Nuala collapsed, sobbing, to the ground, curling up against the right corner of the room, turning away from Ethlinn, who watched the princess's breakdown in utter horror.

"My lady…"

"Do not speak to me, healer! Your betrayal has caused this. Why could you not just tell me who he was in the realm? Why? You have as good as killed me I feel, Ethlinn. _You _have broken my heart." With these words, Nuala did look up, but not at the healer.

The princess's gaze went straight to the mirror, and for the first time understanding showed on her expression. Slowly, as if, with surprise, seeing herself for the first time, she touched a hand to her own cheek, staring at herself with eyes that glistened with tears. She shook her head sadly, as if disagreeing – almost regretfully – with an unspoken idea.

"No," she whispered, "He was wrong, we are not that similar…it feels different."

Ethlinn considered this lull in Nuala's emotional outburst the most appropriate one in which to make her escape, and did so unhesitatingly. After all, the healer realised she could at least tell the king – who would doubtlessly be worrying – that she had witnessed an improvement in his daughter's unhappy condition.

Once she had exited the princess's chambers – much to her relief – Ethlinn headed in the direction of her own sleeping quarters, taking her usual shortcut through a small glade, aglow with the bright shades of the midday sun. A narrow stream tinkled quietly through the roughly rectangular space of flower-dotted ground, and the healer had already passed over the wooden plank bridging it when she realised she was not alone in the area.

"You were with her," the words were spoken so calmly that their suddenness did not startle Ethlinn.

The healer turned around to regard Prince Nuada seated on one of the large stones on the other side of the stream, leaning against the trunk of the dark leaved tree that was casting its shadow all around him. Those branches sighed softly in the gentle breeze, reaching outwards like grasping arms.

The prince seemed almost unaware of Ethlinn's continuing presence in the glade. He was simply stirring the water of the stream with the silver tip of his spear, watching the glistening liquid breaking over one wickedly sharp edge.

"Yes, I was," the healer answered eventually, and Nuada looked up, his eyes orange-red in the dim light, a colour that only enhanced the fierce emotions he was clearly trying so hard to conceal.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Better…"

"You need not lie to me, healer, I can sense her pain at this moment almost as clearly as you can describe her behaviour to me."

"As you wish it then, my lord," Ethlinn sighed, and she suddenly found her tone was pleading – she knew, after all, that he was the only one who could possibly cheer the princess whom she felt she had so betrayed, "She is not well at all; I have never seen her so distressed. I am a healer, and yet I find I cannot think of any way to remedy this problem…I can only fix what is physical…"

"What did she say?"

"I do not think…"

"Do you not? Do you believe she would tell you anything she would not tell me?" Nuada demanded – his tone was soft, and yet the healer felt somehow threatened.

"No, my lord," she answered quickly, automatically stepping back, closer to the other side of the glade. The prince did not fail to notice this, and tipped his head to the side a little, his expression thoughtful as he regarded her. Eventually he held up a hand, sighing almost resignedly.

"Do not feel frightened by me, healer. I apologise; I am merely worried."

"I understand, my lord," Ethlinn nodded, "And so I know it is not my place to keep what she said from you. She spoke of her feelings in regards to King Balor's views on your…relationship. She was clearly very upset by it, speaking of love, among other things. I have never seen the princess so agitated. She wept…"

"And you think that I am the only one now who can bring her back to happiness?" the prince observed, and Ethlinn could see he was on the verge of standing at that very moment, his eyes blazing with even greater intensity of emotion than before.

"Yes. I would not have told you of her affliction otherwise, my lord," the healer admitted, and Nuada smiled, nodding in acceptance and standing quickly.

"I must profess that I do not know where her chambers are," he told her, glancing back the way the healer had come.

"My lord, I am effectively committing treason by telling you such a thing," Ethlinn said desperately, "I am going against the very word of the king by telling you." And yet still she gave him the appropriate directions, and was quick to leave the glade, wondering whether the – undoubtedly fleeting – happiness of the princess was truly worth the risk of the healer's very life.

* * *

Though the warmth of the sun glowed brilliantly through the window space, illuminating the pale room, Nuala hardly saw it. The world might as well have been utterly dark for all she cared or knew at that moment, so far had she descended into sadness. The door was bolted shut and the fairies had left her alone in her misery. For she did feel so alone, when faced with the idea of staying apart from the warrior – the prince. That admission hurt her too, almost as much as the knowledge that he would be suffering from the same inner turmoil.

Nuala had barely moved from her position by the wall, the same place where Ethlinn had left her. For the first time, she had dared to look at the scars left behind from her time of 'illness' and had seen they were identical to Nuada's. This realisation had been little comfort, because the memory of touching him without guilt brought on fresh waves of despair.

"Nuala," the prince's voice sounded from close by, a low whisper that sent shivers down her spine. She was so glad for his presence that she cared little for how he had found her chamber, or how he had entered so silently.

Without any feeling of fright, nervous only of herself, Nuala looked up to see him crouched ahead of her, pale hair shimmering and glowing in the bright noon light. A smile came instantly to Nuala's face, only for that expression to be followed by despairing tears. She folded her arms tightly over her chest, crossing her legs and beginning to draw them up against her body, attempting to stop herself from reaching out to him.

"Please," he whispered, taking gentle hold of her ankle and leaning closer so that their eyes were level, "You will make me think that you fear me."

"I fear only myself," the princess corrected him, closing her eyes and turning her face away when he came nearer. He kissed her cheek instead, and her breath caught as he then pressed his lips to her jaw, again and again down her neck, pushing fabric aside to kiss the base of her throat.

"Don't," she pleaded, taking his face in her hands and pulling him slowly back up to look into her eyes, only to find their lips closer than she had anticipated. She felt herself going weak as his hand found her waist, her body melting against his…"Nuada, please, I am begging you, _please,_" the princess murmured, whimpering softly, helpless with passion and conflicting emotions, as his body settled more closely against hers. She found her previous attempt to guard her responses had been futile; she was holding him against her, and accommodating him better, with her arms _and _her legs.

"You beg me to do…what?" he asked her softly.

"I do not know," she almost sobbed, and fresh tears did indeed spill over onto her cheeks. When the prince kissed that liquid away, she feared her resolve would soon be gone eternally.

"Forget what you fear he will think," Nuada whispered in her ear, "This is between us, and only us."

"I can't," the princess shuddered even as she said this, closing her eyes again as he moved closer still, "You are tormenting me."

"Then the feeling is very much mutual," Nuada pointed out, "But it feels like…beautiful torment."

"Stay here," Nuala murmured, caring little for whether she was contradicting herself or not.

"Then love me," the prince insisted, and Nuala gasped as he began to draw back, "Love me as I love you."

"I do love you. I do! I love you…" her words were muffled as they collided in a passionate kiss. The princess felt she had lost all will to fight against her own emotions – in those long, painfully ecstatic moments, she forgot all about any reason to avoid the very thing she was doing. Just the idea of pulling away seemed like a crime, and even that opinion was lost until they did inevitably, and unwillingly, move apart.

"I could feel your pain," Nuada said against her eventually, "For the first time, I sensed your emotions," as he spoke, they leaned their foreheads together and he rested a hand over her heart, "I felt it as if it were my own, not like in the dreams. Every moment of grief I felt," he sighed, running a hand through her hair and drawing her face closer to his in the same motion, "And then it occurred to me. Do we share each other's pain and emotions? Would such things be worse and more painful if you were not here? Or is everything of that sort which we experience identical?"

"Perhaps one day we will learn the answer, but if it is only pain that we share, then I hope we never do find out."

"But you would like to find out whether we can share…better things than pain," the prince finished for her, and Nuala did not even try to hide her smile of admission.

* * *

Somehow the night was colder among the trees, the branches of which seemed to be reaching down to Cíaran as if they had a life of their own. Several times sharp twigs swished down in the icy wind to cut his skin, or snagged in his clothing, and he was beginning to feel they were attempting to slow him down for the arrival of…something far worse. Yet the human ploughed on through the deepening darkness fearlessly, determined to reach the safety of open ground, and confident that he would achieve his goal.

Cíaran was returning from his truce-breaking journey with a feeling of accomplishment, despite having been unable to catch the treasure he sought. He had successfully followed the two Elves into the trees despite their fast pace, and he did not try to pretend to himself that his presence had gone unnoticed.

The warrior had been nervous, always on edge – though Cíaran found it hard to imagine that one in any different state – looking about himself with watchful eyes. There was no denying the male Elf was very protective of his companion, taking hold of her so gently every time he turned his gaze away, into the forest, as if to reassure himself that she was still there.

The Elf maid's thoughts towards the warrior were also plain, and that clarity surprised Cíaran, because the way she looked at the male guarding her betrayed how hopelessly in love she really was. This revelation angered the human following them beyond – almost – all reason, and several times he had considered whether to leap from his cover and cut the warrior's throat then and there. However, Cíaran had remembered Fionn's warnings just in time; the Elves could not be taken by surprise, and this was why, though such creatures were fewer in number than the humans, they had suffered far less significant losses in battle.

Eventually, the two Elves had stopped their swift walk, and Cíaran's ensuing stumbling halt had been muffled by the warrior's own rush through the trees. For a brief moment the human's route to the Elf maid had been totally undefended, and he had been about to pounce when the shapes of heavily armoured guards had become visible to him through the dark leaves.

Despite the clear threat posed by those intimidating – and yet not fully visible – shapes, Cíaran had chosen to stay, to see what it was that the warrior had been so drawn to, and if he could find a landmark to return to in any future attempts of kidnap. So it was that he had unwillingly allowed the Elf maid to join the warrior through the trees.

Careful to stay out of sight of the Elvish guards, whose attention seemed solely fixed on those beyond the trees anyway, Cíaran had approached the place through which the two Elves had vanished. Upon peering through the veil of leaves and branches, he had been surprised to see a large ring of open ground aglow with the late morning sunlight. An enormous old oak tree dominated the space, its far reaching branches holding off the rest of the forest at the same time as sheltering the ground from the full glory of the sun's rays. Still, the grassy area was liberally dotted with brilliant purple violets.

So at ease did the Elves seem in their natural surroundings that it had taken Cíaran several moments to spot them, despite their obvious contrast with the colours around them. The female had been standing with her back to the human, with the warrior nearby, his face turned away. Directly in front of the Elf maid had stood a third Elf, dressed in robes of gold, red and white, and with a crown of antlers on his head. Somehow he looked older than his two companions, with a beard of golden-tipped ice blonde and wispy shoulder-length hair of the same colour. His skin was slightly tanned looking in comparison to the warrior and the maid, and his eyes were vivid yellow.

The three Elves in the ring of open ground had been speaking with one another, and though he could not understand their language, Cíaran had been able to tell that their subject of conversation was not a happy, or comfortable, one. From the shimmering golden seal on the stomach of the newest Elf, and his crown of antlers, it seemed reasonable to guess that this one was the Elvish king. As he regarded the three, Cíaran had begun to see a certain resemblance between them, and it was with a slight feeling of apprehension that it had occurred to him the warrior and the maid might well be brother and sister. Considering the way he had observed them looking at each other, Cíaran had dismissed that idea quickly, attributing such a thought to an inability to distinguish between Elves.

Following a heated turn in their conversation, the king had left the other two Elves, who had appeared horror stricken by whatever news they had been given. For a long moment they had just stared at each other, and though Cíaran could not see the Elf female's face, he saw her shudder, put a hand over her heart, and sob. With that, she had run from the clearing, too fast for the human to go after her without the detection of the warrior, who remained as one frozen in the same place as before.

Caring little for any observation of the male Elf, Cíaran had begun his difficult journey back. Due to a struggle to remember the path he had taken, and the increasingly malicious behaviour of the world around him, darkness had seemed to fall fast, bringing with it the cold, and the promise of danger. So it was with much relief that the chief of the human settlement smelled the familiar smoky air of his home, and made one final rush through the trees. He almost collided painfully with Maeve as he stumbled once more into the open ground of the hill leading to the settlement.

"Father!" she cried in shock, quickly scrambling back so as not to burn him with the torch she held, having been walking up and down the border of the forest for most of the day in the hopes of Cíaran returning home safely. However, the manic look she observed in his eyes did not bode well, she knew.

"Find Fionn and your brothers, we have much to discuss," came the absent response, as her father snatched the torch from her hands and began to hurry down to his home, which was only dimly visible in the darkening greyish light.

"I believe they are already awaiting your return in the meeting house, to learn why you…" Maeve began to inform him, stumbling in Cíaran's wake. She had not been prepared for the fury with which he faced her upon stopping and turning around to respond.

"To learn what?" he raged, "What could they possibly feel is necessary to judge me on? Am I not the chief of this village? Since when has anyone ever questioned my decisions?"

"They wish to learn of why you chose to break the treaty with the Elves and enter the forest," Maeve explained, and Cíaran's eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment he raised the hand with which he held the torch higher, as if about to hit her with it. Apparently thinking better of risking setting his daughter ablaze, he brought around his other hand instead, delivering a punch that sent the young woman to the ground.

"I will not suffer your impertinence!" he growled, and then spun on his heel, leaving Maeve lying face down in the darkness and dirt, very still.

The human chief stalked quickly through the empty settlement, to the roundhouse at the very centre of the village. Seeing the glow of strong firelight through the cracks in the cloth doorway, he stepped quickly inside, glad for the warmth that enveloped him upon entering. All eyes turned to regard Cíaran from around the central fire, and followed him as he went to place the torch he carried into the blaze.

"Chief, you have been gone long," someone eventually managed to point out, and Cíaran turned to regard the men seated on rugs around the fire, nearly two score of them awaiting his explanation eagerly.

"Yes, it is true," he nodded, trying – and only just succeeding – to quell his continuing anger, "And I believe, as your chief, that my decision to do such a thing need not be so openly questioned. You will think more favourably on this matter once it has been fully explained to you, I hope, for I will need your help for the completion of my plan."

"We all saw the Elf maid, as you told us to watch," one of the eldest at the gathering nodded, and those around him laughed lewdly, nodding – a little too understandingly – at each other.

"Chief!" Fionn cried from the other side of the circle, standing quickly to his feet, "I had warned you of the dangers of looking upon an Elf maiden! They are enchanting in their beauty…"

"Then we cannot be blamed for our subsequent needs, can we Fionn?" Cíaran countered quickly, his smile just as viciously expectant as that of many of the other men at the meeting, "Besides, how dangerous can such a fragile little creature be once we have her in our…grasps?"

"You cannot seriously be considering…" Fionn began, stepping back towards the doorway in utter horror at the agreement Cíaran seemed to have gained among the other humans, "You would be calling war upon us all! Real war!"

"Was it not you, Fionn, who told us the very opposite? That the Elves were disloyal creatures who showed no favour to those of their own kind save themselves?" Cíaran asked pointedly, "And besides, the other settlements are already preparing themselves for another assault. We need more land, and many of the fields still belong to the Elves. What difference will it make to us if we take a little something for our toils?"


	7. Breaking Promises

**Breaking Promises**

Nuala's body protested strongly as she tried to sit up, aching horribly after so long lying still, entangled with another. She groaned quietly, opening her eyes to see that the fragile shades of dawn were already creeping their way through the window space. The twins had missed the whole of the rest of the previous day, something that was not surprising considering they had stayed awake for the whole of the night prior to the princess's second meeting with Maeve.

"How do you feel now?" the prince asked quietly, and Nuala could not help a slight smile of amused understanding as she turned around to see him roll onto his back and wince.

"Mentally?"

"I think I know how you feel physically, Nuala," he reminded her softly.

"Then…I feel confused, a lot better than before you came here, and so unbelievably, shamefully in love…"

"Good," Nuada smiled, obligingly putting his arms around the princess as she lay over him, "Though I would prefer it not to be shameful. There is nothing wrong with what we feel, because it concerns no one but us. But I _am_ glad you feel better, _that _is good."

"You feel good," the princess admitted, running her hands over his chest.

"So do you," came the soft reply, and they kissed, hesitantly at first, but with increasing abandon and passion, "Though I would suggest we find a more comfortable place to rest next time," the prince managed to add, sighing when the guilt returned to Nuala's expression, a feeling that apparently caused her to hold onto him even more tightly than before.

"I do not understand why…King Balor…is so against our love," she whispered almost desperately, "He can do nothing about it, and as you said we are harming no one – certainly not ourselves."

"I believe it is because he is thinking ahead to a truce with the humans one day," Nuada admitted, and his frown suggested that was something he did not look forward to, "And those beings kill their own kind for the 'crime' they term 'incest'; they would not take kindly to a prince and princess – however much we have grown up apart from each other – being so…intimate."

"That is horrible! How can they be so cruel as to kill ones of their own kind?" Nuala gasped, resting her head against his chest and closing her eyes, as if attempting to hide from the knowledge he had of such things, "Then the humans truly do practise cruelty. How could my…our…father be so cold?"

"Yes. A king will divide his own family for politics," Nuada kissed the princess's cheek then, seeing her clear unhappiness, "And he may also be influenced by the prophecy, and whatever it made him afraid of. It certainly meant he could not abide the idea of us growing up together."

"It sounds to me as though by separating us, he brought about the very thing he had wished to avoid; the prophecy was of what he would do, not what would happen if he did _not_ do certain things," Nuala realised, and the prince nodded.

"But I fear you are only upsetting yourself further by thinking about such things," Nuada told her gently, sitting up and smiling when the princess simply adjusted her position against him so that they remained very much entwined, "The subject upsets you…and it is disturbing to learn of such a…relationship…and still be unable to control our feelings. But then I cannot see what can possibly be wrong with our love…among other emotions."

"King Balor thinks it is wrong…" the princess began, but Nuada put a finger over her lips.

"Let us not speak of this, at least for now," a brief smile crossed the warrior's face as he spoke, "We should hurry away from the palace, lest the guards catch us."

"Then wait here…I need to check the corridors," Nuala told him, standing quickly, only for the prince to take hold of her wrist and stop her from leaving the room. She looked around at him in surprise.

"We need not risk them seeing us," he smiled confidently, and glanced significantly towards the window space, "How about we make our escape easy for ourselves?"

"But it is a long way down," the princess warned as Nuada made his way over to the space in the wall, looking down at the awakening world beyond.

"How do you think I got here yesterday?" he asked pointedly, holding a hand out to her without looking around. The princess crossed the room nervously, glancing back at the door as if the guards beyond might somehow know of their plan. Almost uncertainly, she took his hand in hers and gasped when he pulled her closer suddenly so that she had to look down at the grass-covered ground a short distance below.

"You are sure it's…" she started to ask, not liking the idea of injuring herself and in so doing causing the warrior harm, too.

"I'll catch you," he whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek gently, then quickly pulling her back to him when she went so weak in his arms that the princess really did nearly fall, "You see."

With that, he moved the princess to a safe distance from the window and went to the place where he had left his weapons. Nuala sighed at this apparent necessity, preferring to look out of the window space than be reminded of the reality of the prince's warrior ways. Then, before she could even begin to resist, he took her up into his arms, and she realised his plan instantly, turning her face against his shoulder at the very thought of a painful landing – for either of them, because either way it meant pain for him.

"I thought you were going to go down first," she whispered nervously, her voice jumping as she felt him move to the window space.

"I lied," he admitted with an unashamed laugh, and suddenly the princess felt a brief weightlessness, something that felt so strange that she clung to him even tighter. The first evidence she had of a safe landing was a slight jolt that was certainly not uncomfortable – quite the opposite, considering who was holding her – and that once more she had a sense of being on the earth again, "You can stand up now, Nuala."

"Perhaps I just don't want you to let me go," she mumbled against his shoulder, glancing up to see him looking down into her eyes with a gentle expression. In that moment the sun broke through the trees, and she could see him so clearly in the dawn. For the first time in her life, she wished the sun had never risen, because looking at him like that not only reminded her of how deeply she felt for him, but also of what the king had told them the day before. Sighing, she allowed him to put her once more on her feet, and the princess was quick to turn towards the forest once he did let go of her.

The distant sound of the guards patrolling brought them back to the immediate reality of their situation – they were going directly against the king's wishes, however unspoken his rules were. The twins were quick to escape into the forest then, before any creatures could become aware of their presence.

It did not seem to take long to reach the Dream Tree, though the sun had been fully risen for some time when they finally sat among the old oak's roots. Still, as she sat with the prince, it occurred to Nuala that even in the safety of the Elvish realm it was so hard to find peace. Fear and uncertainty seemed to pervade the very air at the palace, even though the humans' attacks had stopped, and it was certainly going to become increasingly difficult for the princess to get away into the forest – especially in the company of the prince.

King Balor was most definitely determined that they would spend no time together. The twins had not failed to notice that during the previous day their father had – very unsubtly – set up watch guards outside the princess's – and probably the prince's – chambers. He had assumed that what he had told them would have made it easy to gain their compliance. Of course, he had been wrong, and that undoubtedly angered him almost as much as their disregard for his command, for Ethlinn had almost certainly told the king everything she had witnessed and learned.

It had not been long before rain began pattering softly onto the thick boughs overhead, sprinkling the ground of the forest, the branches themselves seeming to sigh at the troubles of the princess's life. This was certainly representative of her feelings, for Nuala felt nervous – not only out of worry that the guards would find them, but also because the prince had gone to the tree armed. He seemed watchful as they spoke, his eyes always fixed on the trees around them, searching the brilliantly lit midday world with a vigilance that was almost frightening.

"What do you fear?" the princess asked eventually, and Nuada glanced at her in surprise, but was quick to return his gaze to the trees.

"What do you mean?"

"You are watchful, you have barely looked away from the forest," Nuala explained, "And you came here armed. Were you expecting danger?"

"No," the prince sighed, finally turning around fully to regard her, his expression softening instantly, and he traced his thumb lightly over her lips as he spoke again, "Of course not. I would not have agreed for us to come here if I was expecting danger," he told her, smiling as Nuala closed her eyes at the feel of the contact he had just made. She brought a hand up, almost touching his, and her breath shuddered, but the memory of the king's ire prevented her from returning any contact.

"It's just one touch," the prince noted, "And you can hardly breathe. It is the same for me. An accidental brush against your arm, a brief touching of our hands…Anything, everything," his voice was barely audible now, "But this, this is even better, to reach out and touch you, so warm, so close…and to know you feel me," he trailed off when Nuala's hand quivered and her lips parted as his thumb continued to move over them. Slowly, her eyes opened, and the prince felt his heart begin to pound.

"It is true. Nothing is enough and yet everything is still so much. I cannot explain the feelings…they make me ache so much and yet feel so good…"

"Then touch my hand," the prince urged, "Know what I feel. Have all of it," yet still Nuala's hand wavered, "Do you fear what you will learn?" he asked, and the princess shook her head, "Then touch me."

A second more passed before Nuala uncurled her fingers, touching the side of his hand with her very fingertips, closing her eyes again. At first there was nothing, and she became very aware of his thumb still moving over her lips, and of the warmth of his skin beneath her touch. Then, without warning, it all flooded into her thoughts. Love and passion so boundless, wild, untameable, just like Nature, the world she adored so much. She whimpered softly as she felt his continual longing to come closer, to press his lips to hers and feel their warmth…So much emotion in line with hers, longings equal to and far beyond those she had dared to admit she felt.

"Nuada," she gasped, her hand eventually closing lightly around his wrist, "What if this is wrong?"

"I can tell from your voice that there is no need for me to answer that."

"Then…is it really your greatest desire?" Nuala whispered, reaching out tentatively to touch his face and then gently draw him closer, "To…kiss me?"

"Yes, 'once more' will never, ever, be enough for me," he murmured, moving his hand to trail his fingertips over the side of her face as they leaned nearer, "What is it?" he asked, seeing her smile.

"It is mine to kiss you," the princes replied softly, tipping her head back a little to savour the moment as their lips almost touched…

The loud sound of approaching, heavy feet was suddenly all around them. The prince was away from Nuala immediately, taking up his swords, pointing them into the ring of trees as he backed the princess against the Dream Tree. Nuala tried to keep her breathing steady as the heavy footsteps came closer. She could at least find a measure of comfort in the feel of his body holding hers against the tree. Her hands rested against his back, and though her reasons for touching him – and vice versa – had changed so much, the feeling for both was still very sexual, particularly disturbingly so considering the circumstances.

For a long moment there was silence, deadly, ominous silence, and Nuala glanced around the open area. It looked deserted, but she knew better, and, feeling as though death could be fast approaching, the princess leaned forward, against Nuada, and kissed his shoulder. From the way he turned his face briefly against hers, she knew he had felt it. When they looked back to the trees around them, it was in time to see that they were surrounded by perhaps a score of humans in full metal armour, though it was very likely to be more. Fear struck the princess's heart, and Nuada backed more closely into her. They both knew he could not provide protection for her by being hit in her stead, or she for him. Both felt they _had _to live, for love of the other.

"Stay with me," Nuada whispered fiercely, "Take the dagger on my belt, and promise me…if one of them so much as touches you…" he stopped speaking abruptly when the humans began to approach, several of them unsheathing vicious looking swords.

"I love you," Nuala promised as the warrior unsheathed his spear, keeping it at the length of an ordinary sword, "And I know you feel you owe them only death after what they did to our kind, but remember that we have to get our of here." _Anything to lessen the bloodshed, _she added silently.

"I will keep you safe, Nuala, I promise," the prince told her, not keeping his eyes off the humans, who were steadily closing in on them, "Just take my dagger and do not let go of me." As he spoke, he took her left hand tightly in his, allowing her to know every move he planned to make almost before he knew it himself.

So it began. As they charged, the humans seemed to be laughing, though such merriment was short lived for the man closest to the prince. That assailant crumpled to the ground, clutching at his stomach and wondering how the Elf's blade had cut so easily through chain mail. Similarly, two more human men fell, but the twins had to duck beneath the next attacks as several men at once swung heavy swords for the Elvish warrior. This dodge put all three of the armoured men off balance, and Nuada took his chance. At the same time as driving his spear into the man on his right, he kicked out to the left, sending the next man stumbling forwards onto the sword of the third human – the only one of that group left standing.

Quickly standing in the space he had created so viciously, and mercilessly chopping off the head of the third human, the prince found he could see the trees again. Urgently he pulled his sister's hand, determined to get her to safety, only to find that she would not move. Upon turning around he saw her staring in utter horror at the dead and dying men strewn around them, heedless of the others unhurriedly approaching the two Elves, and yet with newly angered expressions on their faces.

"Nuala! Now is not the time for your sympathy! These men are here to…" here his words were punctuated by a lightning fast stab to the right, ending the life of a seventh man without even looking around, "Kill us!"

"No," Nuala whispered, stumbling back towards her brother with the force of his pull on her, "Something is wrong…they are only seeking to kill _you_."

"Then would you wait to learn why that is? And does it make any difference, considering?" with this he pulled her more forcibly towards himself, beginning to try and head for the forest once more.

They had almost reached the safety of the trees when Nuala felt a rough, heavy hand on her shoulder, pulling her back with more force than she had ever felt in her life before. With a pained gasp of surprise, the princess found her grip wrenched from that of the warrior. Her fear was so great that as she spun around, she automatically brought across the dagger in her hand, and suddenly the human in front of her was gurgling horribly. Blood gushed from his neck, pouring, warm and wet, over her hands.

With a scream of absolute horror, Nuala dropped the dagger, her whole body shuddering, her eyes wide and staring at the death she had caused, and she stumbled backwards. Then there were more hands on her, rough and dirty, and she found herself trapped against a large, unyielding body that reeked of sweat and smelled almost as strongly of smoke.

From somewhere nearby there came a roar of rage, and someone screamed in agonised reply. It took Nuala a moment to realise that latter sound had come from the man holding her, and she only just dodged out of the way before he collapsed to the ground, face first.

"Nuala, take my hand! It is not far now!" the prince cried, and his sister turned around to see that they were indeed no more than three steps from the forest.

Desperate now, she reached out towards him, and for a moment his hand did close around hers, only to slip away again due to the blood covering her hands. At that exact same moment, the humans were upon her, terribly strong arms wrapping around her waist, hands grasping her shoulders with bruising force and pulling her back from the warrior. Before the prince could respond to this, Nuala felt a sharp blade pressed to her throat and instantly everything stopped.

"Don't," she whispered, knowing he could hear her, "Don't kill anymore for me. I won't let you…us…die."

Taking advantage of the lull in fighting, the humans dragged Nuala back. She struggled desperately until something heavy collided painfully with the side of her face, and then she found her body had gone limp without her permission. Someone called her name from afar…someone she loved…and then her vision returned enough to see the warrior ignoring her previous words, men falling around him, but there were far too many. The last thing the princess remembered was seeing one of those humans remaining to defeat Nuada hit out with all his force, a blow that hit the prince solidly in the face, and he fell backwards, utterly unmoving on the rain-soaked ground…

* * *

The fires still had not stopped burning. Since the early morning the trees of the eastern part of the Central Forest had been blazing, and the rising grey smoke could even be seen from King Balor's palace, which stood at the very heart of the woodland. Spirits of the forest had come out from their – often centuries long – hiding to try and save their precious trees, dodging among the flames in a dazzling array of colour.

Many of the Elvish treetop homes of the area had been destroyed in the flames, once majestic constructions of leaves and branches; they had been a part of the trees themselves. At this stage in the inferno, such splendid constructions, so painstakingly cultivated, were nothing more than an ashen memory on the glowing ember-strewn ground.

None of the resident Elves had been harmed in the blaze – all the inhabitants of the forest were far too nimble to be caught in such a situation – but their homes had certainly been destroyed, and all their possessions with them. So it was that Elatha stood with his newly displaced family, staring in utter horror at the disastrous scene before him. His job was to defend the Elves and the spirits who were working so frantically to save the trees or at least stop the fires from spreading into the deeper forest and causing even greater destruction.

"Oh no! No, Brother, what has happened?" Ethlinn asked in utter dismay, reaching Elatha's side only a short time after the Elvish man had arrived.

The golden haired warrior shook his head, momentarily speechless; there were no words with which to describe the feeling of loss among the creatures of the forest. Nature came first of all their loves, and many felt that the world around them had to be saved, regardless of personal loss or even sacrifice.

"We fear this fire was not caused by accident," he offered eventually, "I have sent out scouts to determine whether any evidence can be found…"

"My lord!" a voice called from somewhere behind Elatha, as if in direct answer to the information he had given his sister. He turned to regard one of the Elvish guards of the forest approaching him swiftly, almost invisible against the trees clad in brown leather and robes of green.

"You have news," Elatha stated rather than asked, and the newcomer nodded grimly, raising an unusually carved branch before him; sawn off at one end, charred and broken at the other, but with strips of unfamiliar cloth still wrapped around it.

"We found several of these. They are human 'torches' often used for lighting the darkness with fire. They were strewn some distance from the main forest, but still within Elvish ground."

Beside Elatha, Ethlinn gasped, as did her mother, and they gripped each other fearfully. The warrior however simply sighed, glancing back at the roaring flames and seeing that they had hardly dimmed.

"Someone must inform the king," he said quietly, glancing back almost unwillingly to regard the scout, who nodded swiftly, "Take the torch with you as proof, though the response already seems pre-set."

"What do you mean?" Ethlinn asked as the Elf with the torch once more vanished among the trees. Elatha turned to regard his sister and mother, his expression grim as they stared into his face with wide, terrified eyes.

"War may well be upon us," he whispered, and somewhere nearby someone screamed. The humans had returned.

* * *

Prince Nuada sat up suddenly, his eyes blinking open just as quickly, only to fall back with a groan of pain, the leaves overhead spinning wildly into a swirling blur of endless, unbroken green. His head throbbed terribly, and he closed his eyes, finding little relief from the pain as he tried to remember what had befallen to knock him unconscious at the Dream Tree.

Slowly, memories of the fighting with the humans began to piece together in his mind. He had fought with all of his strength to get to her, to stop them, but there had been too many too suddenly, and it was with much sadness that he realised Nuala's presence had made any escape almost impossible. Not willing to dwell on such an idea, the prince pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind, and remembered instead the one who had knocked him to the ground. He had only sustained that one injury, and yet…

As consciousness began to fully return to him, Nuada became aware of more than just the pounding in his head where the human had hit him. The most intense of his pains was a sharp burning feeling running in an almost perfectly horizontal line all the way across his face, just below his eyes and crossing directly over both cheekbones. He could taste blood strongly and feel it dried on his aching skin.

This particular injury was not _his_, he knew this not only from the memory of watching the humans departing after simply knocking him to the ground, but also instinctively. He could sense her fear, her misery…her pain. Such knowledge added to his fury, and with a growl against the pain, he tried to sit up again, just as quickly as before, jumping to his feet despite the increased pounding in his head.

The humans were gone, all of them, and he saw that they had taken the bodies of their slain kin with them. The continuing rain – by then just a fine mist in the air – had washed the pools of blood away from the central oak in streams all around the prince. He regarded all of this dispassionately, caring little for the death and the pain he had caused among the humans.

Where was she? If they had not killed her what had they done with her? What did they intend to do with her? What did they intend to do _to _her? The attack had seemed planned, almost like an ambush. Nuala had been right; they had only sought to kill the warrior, but generally stayed away from him, preferring instead to take the princess and escape.

This clarity of the humans' plan, and the specific intention of taking Nuala, explained everything to the prince. It seemed likely that, the previous day, it had been the human man following them through the trees after attempting to go close to Nuala. He had then returned to his settlement, told his kin of the Elvish princess, of her beauty, and brought them to the Dream Tree to take her for…themselves…

His movement slower now, the prince looked up through the leaves overhead, which were now more defined to his blurred vision, to see a purple tinge to the sky. Had he really been unconscious for that long? Apparently so; the chorus of the twilight songbirds was just beginning. This realisation of the passing of time brought with it a new sense of urgency. Nuala could be anywhere by this time, he realised, bringing a hand up to wipe the blood from his face, heedless of the shocking pain it caused him, and simultaneously turning towards the northern trees, in the hope of gaining help from his kin.

A dull, throbbing ache answered his movements; coming from several places at once: his ankles, wrists, shoulders and neck. Bruises. Bruises he had not sustained, just like the gash across his face.

"Nuala!" he gasped, and for a moment he felt weak with the realisation of just what all of these injuries meant. What was she thinking at that very second? When – if – he found her, could he ever, ever console her?

At the idea of so much pain, so much suffering, being inflicted upon the only creature in the world that he loved, rage began to build inside Nuada. He could feel it like a roaring fire inside his veins, rushing through his body until his fingertips burned with the need to choke the life from the man who had carried the princess away from him. He would never forget that man, the grimy, bearded face, covered in scabs, with tiny watery eyes and tree-trunk arms. That one would die, no matter what else happened, he was determined it would be so.

Finally, his thoughts clear, his body as recovered as it could hope to be, the prince made his way swiftly across the blood stained clearing. He gave no thought to how the guards would react to his news, or that the king was undoubtedly going to be informed. All he wanted was to get _her _back; back from the clutches of the humans; back into his arms.

Prince Nuada had not been walking long when distant and yet somehow unfamiliarly discordant sounds drifted to him from the north east. His thoughts had been so distracted before that he had not noticed how the air seemed darker, thicker, harder to breath. It burned his throat with every breath, and his already aching eyes stung painfully.

Battle. That was it; the sound of metal ringing on metal, the crackling of flames, screams of pain and of fear. He stopped walking, frozen to the spot with the reality of that fact, just as he had when thinking of Nuala. The forest was under attack, and the princess was gone. Where did his loyalties lie? Closing his eyes with a weary, guilty sigh, Nuada shook his head, freeing himself from the weight of responsibility, but not from anger or sadness. This was not his fight, and besides, what good could one more Elf do in such a clearly heated battle? No, he had a love to save; a princess to save; a _sister _to save.

"My lord?" a tentative voice asked, and he recognised it to be that of one of the scouts. The prince's eyes flew open, and he saw the young Elf staring at him in horror, fear and with more than a little disgust. So, he looked that bad, did he? It was not surprising, and hardly consequential.

"You must summon help, scout," he said at length, glancing back the way he had come, "The pr-"

"I am sorry, there is little I can do," came the urgent interruption, one Nuada had both feared and expected, "We are under attack my lord. You should seek help from the palace." With that the scout rushed away.

So quickly shunned, Nuada was once more alone. There was no time to go back to the palace, he realised; light was fading quickly, and he had no intention of allowing his sister to remain with the humans until the next dawn. With an infuriated sigh, he spun on his heel, and headed back the way he had come, running through the dark trees with terrible purpose.

* * *

Slowly the dark fog receded, and in the first numbed moments of semi-consciousness Nuala believed it had all been a horrible nightmare, and thought she was still lying in the warrior's arms on the floor of her chamber. But her wrists and her ankles were sore, her head ached and pounded horribly…and her face burned with pain.

Groggily she remembered angry voices, and the cold solidity of a wall behind her. One of the humans had drawn a knife, and slashed it across her face. She had screamed, and blood had poured. Someone had laughed, and then she felt four more shorter cuts, these ones vertical, cutting through the original gash so that there were two pairs, each below her eyes. Then, much to her relief, the darkness had swallowed her again.

"Nuada," she whispered, and began to move, only to find that she could not. Something dug deeply into the skin of her wrists and ankles, and the pile of twigs she found herself attached to groaned in protest but did not yield. It had not been a nightmare. It was real.

Somehow knowing that screaming might not be her safest option, she opened her throbbing eyes slowly. She was lying in a dark, semi-circular room where the only light came from the gaps in the sloped, thatched roof overhead. The walls were of foul smelling dirt, cracked and crude looking, while the floor was in fact no floor at all and simply sheltered ground; dusty, packed down soil. At the bottom end of the straight wall, which stood to her right, was a small rectangular entry space. A thick but threadbare blanket had been hung from the top beam to serve as a door, and the evidence of a flickering fire could be observed glowing around the opening's edges.

Loud voices and raucous laughter emanated from the other side of the wall, those unfamiliar sounds filling Nuala with fear. The voices were all those of men. The smell of smoke-tainted air was thick around her, so much so that she felt she could hardly draw breath; she was at the heart of a stifling human settlement. With this realisation came further struggling, in which she found the only part of her body she could move for any kind of benefit was her head. That certainly was not going to get her out before…

A slurred voice sounded from close by the doorway, followed by a loud cheer from his fellows. The owner of the voice laughed noisily, and promptly stumbled into Nuala's prison. This sudden, jerking movement sent the rest of the liquid in the wooden cup he was holding straight to the floor, so with a displeased grunt he dropped the container to join the contents. His gaze fixed on her then, and she would never forget the terrifying hungry look in his eyes as he regarded her.

The man leered at her a moment longer before staggering forward. Though the princess could not understand the language, she had a fair impression of what he was saying to her as he neared, and her heart began to race in horrified terror. Desperately she struggled against her bindings, but they held fast and the twigs below her bit harshly at her skin.

Suddenly he was upon her, too close, and she felt sick. She fought as best she could, until he slammed a hand over her mouth, holding her lips shut with his nails, muffling her screams. Elvish cloth tore, and pain short through her body. Why couldn't the oblivion take her this time? Why?

* * *

Prince Nuada stumbled and almost fell. He could sense her fear, and knew she was in agony, and yet he could not feel her pain, or where it was coming from. Staggering to his knees, he was barely aware of the blood trickling from his lips, so terribly weak did he feel. The pain was not his, and it was coming from nowhere; the lack of it actually made him feel empty, worthless somehow. He was not sharing her suffering, he was merely a kind of spectator, and that made no sense to him. For a long moment he wondered why they were in such a situation. They always shared injuries and pain, so why not now? What was different? And then he knew. There was only one explanation for this lack of connection between them, only one kind of attack on Nuala that could not affect him.

"No!" he shouted, fairly throwing himself to his feet and stumbling forwards, seeing the trees thinning ahead of him, feeling the tainted air of humanity tearing at his throat just like the smoke from the burning trees had before it, "_No!_ Not that. Tormentors, kill us!"

He felt sick and he felt anger beyond fury, such wrath that no words could possibly explain it. The need to kill, to kill anything, burned on his skin, and he unsheathed his spear and sword. Death for her torment – that was all he could think of; if they were going to do that to her, he would inflict the only thing worse upon them.

As the cover of the trees fell away, and the twilight illuminated settlement was revealed to him in shades of blue, pink and violet, the warrior paused to survey the smoke clouded scene with disgust. After all, the humans were not in a hurry to kill the princess, they wanted other things from her first. This reminder of that sickening knowledge, and further speculation upon it, only served to fuel his ire, and the prince began a slow approach of the town, invisible to human eyes in the darkness.

Nothing but a silent shadow in the night, the prince drifted down the hill, careful to stay out of any firelight lest the inhabitants spot him too soon. As he neared the cluster of buildings, he passed a large wooden hut in which most of the livestock were kept, near which stood the enclosure for the sheep. Nuada stopped there, glancing back at the trapped animals thoughtfully, and then went back to them, pulling aside the opening and setting them free. Hearing the familiar sound that they equated with freedom, the animals stirred, and then all at once they were moving, running out of the enclosure in a chaotic stampede.

Smiling rather grimly to himself, the Elf continued his approach of the settlement, regretfully leaving the other livestock in the hut; it would take too long to save them too. Besides, as he had predicted, a dog tethered nearby began to bark at the unusual sound of thundering feet, pulling insistently against its bindings until the Elvish prince approached it, crouching in front of the animal and putting a finger to his lips – which still trickled with blood.

"Shhh," he whispered to the dog, which had already stilled and taken to a low, uncertain growl, looking about itself in the darkness in the vain hope of seeing the one addressing it, "Be silent. Your loyalties are misplaced."

Whimpering, the dog retreated against the wall, lying on the ground with its head resting on its paws, as if sensing the Elf's sadness and intimidated by his anger. However, the animal's calls had alerted some of the inhabitants, and those in the closest houses had already begun to filter outside, bringing torches with them into the night.

Prince Nuada stood quickly, a vengeful shadow now, and awaited the nearest inquisitive human, staring with orange-red eyes ablaze with fury. The Elvish warrior saw fit to slit the man's throat as he passed, and watched him stumble a few shocked, unsteady steps before the unsuspecting investigator crumpled to the ground, shuddering. The human's torch fell with him, and the flames caught on the cloth of his clothes quickly. He had no time to scream – he was too busy choking.

Caring little for the pain of the one at his feet, but feeling no reprieve from his anger, the warrior took up the burning branch and laid it carefully on the back of the dry thatched roof of the closest human home. The straw lit up easily – even more so than the charred creature on the ground nearby – and soon the closest humans did not know what to do or which problem to go after first. After all, a home could be rebuilt, but lost livestock could not be recovered so easily.

The warrior slipped away from the settlement boundary in the commotion, and was suddenly overcome by another wave of weakness, almost falling for a second time. In fact, the only thing that kept him standing was the pulling feeling on his being; the knowledge that the princess was nearby.

Nuada's gaze locked upon the central roundhouse, standing with such misplaced pride among all the other buildings of the settlement. Smoke rose from the middle of its roof, indicating that a fire was lit inside, keeping whoever resided there warm in the cold night. But Princess Nuala was in there, and so anyone else who resided there was going to die.

Unnoticed by any of the settlement's inhabitants, the warrior crossed over the uneven, muddy ground and stopped at the doorway of the central house, suddenly unable even to draw breath. He found himself shaking with fury, not sure if he would be able to carry out his plan if he remained so overpowered by his emotions. Nothing but a thin wooden barrier separated him from the raucous laughter within the building, and from the volume of their speech, these men were not afraid of any attacks.

Well, they would learn the lesson of vigilance a little too late, the warrior thought as he took the final step forwards and then kicked the fragile wooden doorway open. Almost instantly there came a commotion from the wide, circular room beyond, with men scrambling to unsteady feet, shouting to each other in fear. Not one of them was armed, and there was nothing but fire to hand as weaponry.

Some of the men had the presence of mind to snatch a flaming branch from the fire, but the rest appeared somewhat dazed, as if not quite believing what they were seeing. Had they truly not expected retribution? The prince smiled at the idea, spinning his weapons around him in a dizzying display, watching the expressions of the men in front of him and revelling in their fear. Several found themselves frozen by their terror; looking at the fierce, angry smile in a death-white face streaked with blood and marred with deep gashes, they knew undoubtedly that look signified their deaths.

Seeing that their route of escape was barred only by one Elf, the men wielding torches made a unified charge for the warrior, only to stop in confusion when he was simply no longer there. The first never even really had time to think about this; his body fell to the ground long before his head, and the other two fell face first on the dirt as the prince landed behind them, simultaneously stabbing both men in their backs.

Then the Elf was a blur, surrounded by a group of men desperately seeking the exit of the building. His blades never stopped spinning, and neither did he, even as he ducked and rolled beneath their punches, kicks and shoves. Not a single attack hit him, but every one of his hit their intended targets. Every man around him fell in seconds; the final human of this group found himself stumbling backwards into the fire, and in a moment he was engulfed, his screams echoing through the night.

Slowly, covered in fresh blood and none of it his own, Prince Nuada looked up to see two final adversaries. Neither of them made a move to escape and both stood frozen in place. To the right, close to a second doorway, this one covered with a torn old cloth, stood the man who had tried to approach the princess the previous morning. This was Cíaran, though Nuada was unaware of the human's name, and the human's eyes were fixed upon the dead men around him, beginning to understand the consequences of his greed.

The second man, this one to the prince's left and much closer to his eager blades, stood a familiar and already despised man; the one who had carried the princess away. As he stared upon this man, the Elvish warrior was able to shrug off the next wave of weakness that ran through him, but he was not capable of remaining unaffected by the scream that accompanied it from the room beyond. For a moment he staggered, dropping his sword, gasping in horror, shuddering with the weight of the grief that settled over him like a cloak of solid stone.

"Nuala," he whispered desperately, "Why could I not save you from this?"

Thinking the warrior distracted, the closest man took his chance and made a run at the Elf. Unfortunately for the human, Nuada looked up just in time, and saw the strip of shimmering blue cloth tied around his right forearm. Fury blazed once more, and suddenly the man found that his attempted punches were not working, and as pain erupted in his elbows he looked down slowly to see that he _had _no arms left with which to punch. They were lying at his feet, useless but definitely his.

In horror, the man looked back to the Elvish warrior standing before him, his spear dripping with blood, and was greeted with an almost cheerful smile. Seeing the man beginning to weaken, Prince Nuada stamped on the hilt of the sword he had dropped so that the blade was raised vertically, stabbing through the man's neck as he collapsed on the ground.

A second scream, this one of horror and not of pain, came from the entrance behind the warrior, and he turned unconcernedly, recognising the voice for that of a human, to see the young woman Nuala had so taken to standing in the broken doorway. Confusion was quickly taking over her horror, and then shock replaced that as she registered all the other deaths.

When Cíaran spoke, his voice urgent, Nuada spun around to regard him angrily and the man responded by raising both of his hands, palms outwards in a fearful gesture of surrender. This action only served to further enrage the Elf, who knew he was delaying the peace of his loved one by dwelling on revenge. Still, he found that his need to exact vengeance was entirely all consuming, and it took only a split second before he sprang backwards, taking the young woman by her hair and dragging her forwards into the room.

"You will learn my pain before you die," the prince promised Cíaran, though he knew the man could not understand him.

The woman struggled violently, but the Elf's hold on her was too strong. Still, a clump of her hair tore free and she gasped in pain. For a moment the warrior allowed the situation to remain that way; hearing the girl's sobs of fear, and the man's desperate unintelligible pleas for mercy.

"Be still, or I will kill you, too," Nuada hissed in the woman's ear, and though she did not understand those menacing words, she must have comprehended their general meaning, for she stilled instantly.

Cíaran's pleading descended into high-pitched whimpers and sobs of his own as the Elf brought the sharp side of his spear tip to the neck of the woman, running it slowly along her throat. A thin stream of blood accompanied the movement, and she shuddered, crying out, but otherwise remained still and so very much alive. Cíaran, however, was unaware of this, and despairing tears began to streak his face.

Dropping the woman, Prince Nuada fixed his eyes on the doorway ahead of him, unsheathing his one remaining dagger as he did so – the one he had not given to his sister – and threw it straight for Cíaran. The man had no time to move, and the blade buried itself up to the pommel through his eye.

From that moment onwards, the warrior's vision – and certainly his memory of the event – was blurred. He rushed through the doorway, and dragged the man in the room from the princess, driving his spear against the human's head with such force that it broke straight through bone – on both sides. Somehow retrieving the weapon, Nuada pushed the dead man back through the doorway, and then his whole world just seemed to fall away in the sheer horror of the moment.

* * *

Maeve staggered to her feet in disbelief, trying to ignore the pain across her neck from where the Elvish warrior had just cut her. Why was he here? Another sob escaped her as she glanced back to her disfigured – and certainly very dead – brother, lying there with a sword through his neck. Her confusion only heightened when she noticed the strip of unbelievably vivid sapphire cloth tied around one of his disembodied forearms. That material seemed unreal – it shimmered in the light unlike anything she had ever seen before. It reminded her of the clothes Nuala wore.

Suddenly realising what her father had done, she sat up quickly to try and demand the truth from him, only to see Cíaran lying on the ground in a small pool of his own blood, a dagger embedded deeply in his eye.

"Father!" she cried out, scrambling to his side, but knowing there was nothing she could do. At this very moment, another body made itself known to her, tumbling through the doorway to the next room. The blanket shielding that entrance fell with the dead man, wrapping him in its grasp as they both flopped uselessly to the ground.

Hardly able to comprehend all she was seeing, Maeve staggered to her feet, and it was her turn to feel the need for revenge. Not thinking clearly about what she intended to do once she found the Elvish warrior again – how invincible had he seemed in that last fight? – she made her way to the open doorway of the next room, and stopped there in surprise.

The warrior's spear lay directly at her feet, its silvery shine gone because it was so covered in blood, utterly discarded. Surprised by this, Maeve did not automatically lift the weapon in the hopes of making an unpredicted blow, but instead followed the bloody footprints leading from it to the other side of the tiny, dark chamber. What she saw destroyed all the need for revenge, and instead tears filled her eyes and she felt ashamed for ever having cared for the man lying dead behind her, the one she had deigned to call 'father'.

There, fastened with jagged leather straps by her wrists – and apparently once her ankles – to the pile of spare kindling against the curved wall lay the Elvish maid her father had so clearly 'coveted' and Maeve finally understood his true intentions. Blood stained Nuala's badly torn, but definitely once beautiful, blue and white dress, and cuts and bruises were clearly visible all over her exposed skin, particularly her legs. Her face was as badly bloodied and marred as the warrior's, and he was on his knees by her side, struggling with the bindings on her wrists. His hands were shaking, Maeve noticed in amazement. _He _was shaking.

The young woman watched as the warrior freed the maid, and Nuala whispered something, reaching out to him and letting him begin to lift her. When she gasped from the pain such a movement inflicted upon her, he was quick to lower her once more, only at least this time not on to the pile of twigs, but across his knees. She smiled at this, as if appreciating his concern, and then looked into his eyes, saying something, her tone a little more desperate than before. In response, the warrior groaned, and they rested their faces together slowly, a little tentatively because of the injuries they had sustained over the past day.

Maeve found herself staring at the scene; she had never seen a more poignant display of absolute love. She had never seen _any _display of love before. It took a moment for her to realise the two Elves were whispering to each other. Their words became more and more urgent until the warrior suddenly moved closer still, kissing Nuala with a sudden, fierce passion that seemed strange in the situation. His movement had reminded Maeve of a starving man snatching at food; like he needed to do it just to keep him alive.

After this unusual exchange, Nuala seemed somehow more peaceful, and did not complain when the warrior began to lift her again. As he turned, his gaze fell upon Maeve, and she saw no anger and no judgement there. It was as if, with the presence of the Elf maid, his wild, and certainly dangerous, emotions had been tamed. He knelt briefly once more to retrieve and sheath his spear, and Maeve simply moved out of his way. The warrior did not respond to her, except to turn his back to her so that his body was between hers and Nuala's. In that moment, the young human woman did not begrudge him the distrust. How could she, after what her family had done to the one cradled so gently in his arms?

When Maeve looked up again, both the Elves were gone, and with a sigh – but no more tears – she approached her dead brother and quickly snatched the piece of blue cloth from his once whole arm.

"Traitor," she spat on his dead body, "I curse you. Your spirit should find no rest; I condemn you to the sea in which we will leave you. There will be no peace for you, for you gave her none."

Following this, Maeve stumbled from the central building to see one of the distant houses close to hers roaring with flames. Men, women and children alike were struggling in the darkness to put it out, and in the light it provided the human woman could see the sheep pen was empty, its doorway swung wide.

"Maeve! Are you alright? What's happened?" Fionn asked from nearby, rushing to her side. She was glad he had not come a little earlier; somehow she realised the Elvish warrior would have killed the man with the others, regardless of guilt or knowledge.

"The Elves…my father, my brothers – all of them," she whispered, raising haunted eyes to regard him and shaking her head in disbelief, "I cannot believe they kept the maid like that, savaged her…raped her," tears came to the woman's eyes as she spoke, "And then the warrior had come back for her. He took revenge on everyone inside. My whole family is dead for the horrible torment they inflicted on a creature not even of our kind. How can the Elves begin to make peace with us when we behave this way? How can we even begin to make peace with them when they can be so utterly, devastatingly vicious?"

As Maeve spoke, Fionn looked beyond her, to the gory scene clearly visible through the open doorway. He quickly turned away, ashamed at his own weakness as he brought a hand to his mouth, feeling as though he might just be sick. His face turned ashen and he wondered how any creature could be so evil.

"He cut you," the man stated, his voice suddenly flat, trying to hold back his own anger at the idea, but Maeve just shrugged.

"He spared my life," she reminded him, and her expression grew cold, "Right after he mutilated my brother and right before he killed my father." Even as she spoke, she wrapped the strip of blue cloth she had taken from her dead brother around her own wrist, in memory of all the happiness, innocence and faith in the world that had been lost in just a matter of hours.

"Then feel grateful, you will probably forever remain the last of your kind," Fionn noted, glancing once more at the carnage before running for help.

* * *

Finally, the palace was in sight. Even for this late hour the gardens were surprisingly deserted, and so there was not immediately anyone present who could run for help when the king's children emerged from the forest. Still, Prince Nuada did make it to the entrance of the archway of leaves before his strength began to visibly wane. The truth was that he felt almost as weak as his sister, whom he had carried all the way from the human settlement. The necessity of saving her had been the only thing to drive him on through the pain and the heaviness of his limbs.

Nuala had not stirred once along the journey home, perhaps realising how much effort it actually took for the weakened prince to hold them both from the ground. If he had believed this idea, Nuada might have been content, but he knew better. She was a little too still for that; the only evidence that the princess remained living was her continuing warmth against his body and the rise of fall of her chest as she breathed shallowly. Her head was cradled against his shoulder, and her eyes were closed. He could not make out her expression; she had turned her face against his chest and had not once looked around since he had lifted her. Even more tormenting for the prince was that he was very aware of the pain every one of his movements inflicted upon his sister – particularly to her legs. They were both in agony, but at least his anger had – mostly – subsided, whereas her misery was only just beginning.

A cry of alarm sounded from nearby, calling for the guards urgently. Those armoured Elves were upon the king's children almost instantly, and the prince stumbled, almost falling, as his sister was taken from him. Nuala did finally move then, turning her head and fixing haunted eyes upon her brother, calling his name feebly as the gap between them widened. It was a cruel parody of her abduction that neither of them could bear.

Nuada made as if to follow, but an arm barred his way. His fury welling up rather uselessly this time – the arm blocking his path had become the only thing keeping him on his feet – he slowly turned to regard the one holding him back. That movement set the prince off balance, and the guard holding him back had to catch Nuada by the shoulder lest he fall.

"If she wants me with her, why are you stopping me?" the prince asked, and he was shocked by the weakness and shudder of emotion in his own voice as he spoke.

"The king's orders, my lord. You are to be kept separate."

"I am to be separated from my own…sister? I just saved…at least, brought her back."

"Yes, my lord, but the king's word is absolute, as you well know. And, if you will forgive me saying so, you do not look in a fit state to be standing at all."

The prince could not argue with this observation and allowed the guard to help him to the door of his room. For a moment he remained there, concentrating on every shuddering breath rather than the emotions burning in the back of his mind.

"The king has been informed," the guard told Nuada, "And a healer is being sent for to tend to your injuries."

The unfamiliar Elf hurried away then, before the prince could respond, showing just how expressly King Balor did not want the twins even to speak of each other, let alone see each other. Not for the first time, Nuada wondered why the relationship bothered those around him so much. To him, the connection with the princess was not something to be ashamed of, and not something to call for a change in the feelings he felt. The idea that they were linked so strongly by their lives and their emotions only made him…feel more.

Only just realising that the world appeared to be tilted at a very strange angle, Prince Nuada pushed open the door of his chamber and fairly fell inside. He knew what he intended to do instantly and that perhaps it would not be the best course of action; he had been unable to see the extent of Nuala's injuries because her face was covered in blood, so he would inspect the damage to his own face.

On unsteady feet he reached the window space in the right side of the opposite wall – there was no mirror in the room, so he would have to resort to second best. Almost unwilling now, he looked across to the still pool of water on the ground ahead of him, and consequently into the blood shot eyes of his own reflection.

"Oh Nuala," he groaned, "What have I done?"

The gash across his face, with its four vertical slices, was truly gruesome, burning with pain and caked in blood. Touching a hand tentatively to his cheek, he could not help but wonder how much more it would have taken to tear their faces off altogether. His lips were damaged with cuts of their own, they were bruised too, and when he spoke fresh blood welled up quickly. The prince sighed at this sight, for any extra damage would be his sister's, too. He felt he might go mad from the very idea.

A quiet knock on the door startled Nuada, and he spun around quickly, if a little unsteadily. His thoughts automatically went to reaching for his spear…only to see that he had left that weapon on the bed.

"My lord?" a gentle, vaguely familiar voice asked nervously.

Nuada looked up to see the healer, Ethlinn, standing in the open doorway, almost invisible against the wooden portal in her sandy coloured robes. Perhaps it was because he had spent all day thinking of such emotions, or perhaps it was because he felt them himself, but he could instantly see the sadness shrouding the healer. She was staring at the floor with her head bowed and her shoulders slumped.

"What do you want?" the prince asked sharply, glancing back out of the window to see the wind rippling the water and his reflection vanish into a series of blurred red and white curves, glimmering in the moonlight. When he looked back to the other Elf, he could feel fury blazing inside himself again, because somehow he could not help but blame her for everything that had happened to Nuala.

"The king has sent me to see to your wounds…"

"You are his little spy, aren't you?" Nuada interrupted, taking several strides towards Ethlinn and stopping just in front of her, until only the width of the doorframe separated them. His hands were burning with the need to hurt someone again…but he stopped himself just in time. She winced in response to his words, and avoided looking into his eyes, so he spoke again, "Why are you not tending to Nuala? I do not need your care," he snarled.

"Yes, but if your injuries are not seen to, hers cannot heal," Ethlinn pointed out hastily, nervously pulling at the long sleeves of her dress, wishing she was anywhere but there, under his icy gaze.

The healer's words gave pause to the warrior, who sighed and turned away, the world tilting and bending before his eyes. He only had time to reach the bed before falling down, still sitting, but only barely. Seeing this, Ethlinn realised the prince did not have the strength to resist, and so approached quickly, her movements fast and nervous. Something about him set her on edge; of all the creatures she had seen him conversing with, his eyes were dead only when they settled upon her.

Before Nuada could begin to even think about escape, Ethlinn revealed the fact that she had been holding a small woven bowl containing the clear jelly-like substance that was the Elvish healing salve. The warrior just glared at her as she moved to sit beside him, but did not try to avoid her.

"This will not hurt her, will it?" Nuada asked, watching, his expression distrusting, as the healer dipped her hand into the bowl.

"No, because it should not hurt you. It will do both, however, if you move."

The second her fingers touched his face he closed his eyes. At first, the reason for such an action seemed obvious; he did not want _her _to touch him, so he would imagine the one who he _did_ long for. Ethlinn realised that perhaps her own horror at the direction of his affections was causing her to assume things about his behaviour even when he was not in the presence of the princess. After all, she _had _seen them among the trees a matter of days before. It was with surprise then that she realised he was not thinking of Nuala; his expression did not change from that same begrudging look. Perhaps he was not imagining anything.

Somehow, as the seconds drew by in silence, Ethlinn felt increasingly awkward sitting there beside Prince Nuada, though she was just doing the job the king had asked her to. At first, she wondered what was wrong with her – she could feel her heart pounding more strongly than it ever had, and though she tried she could not deceive herself and tell herself she was scared. The truth was that she _was _frightened, but there were more reasons than this for her unfamiliar reactions. She was very much aware of the way his chest pressed against her arm every time he breathed in, and of the warmth of his arm against hers.

When Ethlinn's hand moved from his face, the prince's eyes opened once more, and this time they were blazing with many different and yet somehow veiled emotions. He pulled away when the healer moved to the cuts on his lips.

"That is enough, healer," he told her quickly, taking her wrist and pushing her hand back. He did not even really want to admit to himself that his lips still burned with the memory of his last kiss with the princess, and he wanted nothing to mar that feeling until it happened again.

"You should learn to be more gentle with those who are trying to help you, my son," the voice of the king sounded from nearby, and Nuada looked up with a frown to see his father entering the room.

Ethlinn stood quickly, taking several steps back, her head bowed, looking at neither members of the Elvish royalty gathered in the room. She felt guilty, almost ashamed, for having felt the things she had. It frightened her that the prince may have realised her train of thought, for she did not know how much the princess could sense of the prince's surroundings.

"You may leave, healer, my son clearly is not grateful for your kindness," King Balor informed, his tone showing some amusement – as if _he _understood what she was thinking.

"Thank you my lord," she mumbled, and fairly fled the room.

"What did you think you were trying to achieve, sending her here like that?" Nuada demanded once the healer had left. The king glanced at him sidelong, still with the expression of amusement, though his smile was fading.

"Perhaps I thought you needed a distraction from what is bothering you?"

"Ha! You wanted to put a stop to something you began. The healer is just a slave to your 'greater' plans. You will never destroy the love I have, even if it drives me insane!" the prince stumbled then, and fell back to sitting on the bed, leaning his head in his hands and shuddering.

"Something I began?" the king sounded surprised, "I tried to stop the prophecy, but…I could not…" only then did he look back to his son, and saw how truly weak he seemed, "Nuada! Are you sure you do not need help?"

"What help could they give me? I have no cause for this weakness…it all comes from my sister."

Upon hearing these words, King Balor's expression darkened, and he nodded unwillingly, a great sadness showing in his eyes.

"I understand how hard it must be for you both now," he sighed, "But perhaps this is the best time for you to leave her, to let her make a different life for herself rather than one hopelessly fixated on you."

"You truly do hope to separate us," the prince groaned, "And this is the worst of all times, when she cannot trust anyone but me. She knows what is in my heart, but she can never understand another person that deeply. Do you not see? There is no way I can leave her; there is no way she can leave me. Even if you pull us apart, we are still bound, still eternally together."

"Then why can you not go? My son, you are contradicting yourself," King Balor pointed out, and the prince just shook his head, not denying the accusation in those words – he was too weary to do so. When he looked back up, the endless anger raging in Nuada's eyes terrified his father…the very idea of such a creature having influence on the beautiful, innocent thoughts of the princess…

"What was it that so horrified you in that prophecy? What did the Angel of Death tell you?"

"I have already explained that to you, my son," King Balor answered hastily, glancing away quickly, "Such memories are not ones I wish to discuss again."

"What is it, Father? You have more to say?"

"Nuada, the humans entered the forest, and they burned down many of the tree homes in the east. Fighting there has only just finished, and war has been declared. It was around the time of this decision that the goblins of the north sent word to me that they, along with many other creatures, have suffered great losses at the hands of the humans. They have offered to give us an army…of sorts…"

"And you want me to go and speak with them, to avoid me entering in any battles, and to stop me from seeing Nuala," the prince stated, and the king did not respond, "Do I have a choice?"

"None whatsoever."

"Then when must I leave?" Nuada asked, his voice nothing more than a growl.

"As soon as you are able," Balor replied, before turning around and leaving the room.


	8. To War

**To War**

"I did not think you would wait long," Elatha commented, hearing the gentle rustling of the leaves behind him and knowing undoubtedly that his new companion was the prince.

"Wait long for what?"

"To come here. To see it all for yourself," Elatha did not try to hide the frustration in his voice – he could not help but wonder why the prince had not been present in the fighting.

"You have lost much, my friend. I can hear it in your voice," Nuada noted, perhaps a little too calmly, and the coldness of his tone sent Elatha spinning around to face the prince angrily. This feeling of frustration and indignation did not last for long, however, when he saw the damage to the prince's face, and the way his childhood friend leaned so heavily on his spear for support. So he had not been absent from the fighting that day, then.

"Yes," the golden haired warrior sighed eventually, looking back around through the blackened leaves of the only remaining trees to have been touched by the fire, "My family lost their home, and I lost my father in the fighting with the humans."

"I am sorry to hear that," came the quiet reply, the words spoken with a little more feeling than before as the prince stepped closer to the burned trees to look through their branches at the real damage beyond, "But the humans will pay," he added in a whisper once he had reached his friend's side. He could only make out vague outlines of broken, charred stumps, but he could clearly see the last few Elvish dead, stone by this time, being carried away.

"And what happened to you?" Elatha asked a little tentatively, seeing the growing wrath on the prince's face. Nuada had always been prone to fierce emotions, but never had the other Elf seen such fury on his face. Had one battle changed him that much?

"We were attacked. I killed them eventually, and more," the satisfaction with which those words were spoken was chilling to hear for Elatha.

"We? Who was with you?"

"The princess," Nuada's voice shook as he said this, and he brought a hand up to – almost – touch the gash on his face.

"So that was you?" Elatha gasped, unable to hide his horror at his newest realisation, "You were the one who set the human settlement alight? The whole place burned down."

"It did, did it? Good."

"And all the fighting men in the one building that remained untouched by the flames? That was your work? They were – all of them – killed by you?" Elatha found himself feeling uncharacteristically afraid, watching the expressions on the prince's face.

"They were under the affects of 'alcohol'. I did them a favour."

"A favour? Is the dealing of death ever a favour, Nuada?" the golden haired warrior found himself aghast at the prince's words; he had never believed the son of King Balor was capable of such horrors as had been witnessed on the destroyed settlement. Not one person killed in that town had been armed when their lives were ended. The attack seemed pointless, just an insane rampage, by all reasoning.

"For what they did to _her_,death was a fortunate escape for them. They were lucky she was there at all. Had she not been, I would have been far less lenient," Nuada promised.

"By the one you speak of as 'her' I assume you are referring to the princess," Elatha said, somewhat nervously – the rumours were not kind in regards to the twins.

"Yes," the prince fairly snarled, then looked away quickly, closing his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, "And her pain is eating away at my sanity. But then what does that matter? After what our father has decreed, I feel I will have none of that quality left to be destroyed." His eyes flashed, and he rested a hand over his heart as if he felt ready to tear it from his chest.

"You must be aware of the rumours about you and your…"

"Those words mean nothing to me. Few words mean anything to me anymore," Nuada admitted, wincing as he struggled to walk the short distance through the charred leaves and the ruin of the eastern part of the forest was revealed to him.

A great black scar ran through the landscape, a vast expanse of charred ground and broken trees that stretched over the hill beyond. Fairies and spirits of the forest drifted aimlessly among the ruins, knowing that there was nothing left to save if there ever had been anything. As Prince Nuada surveyed this scene, his eyes grew cold; the fire of emotion in his eyes slowly dimmed until there was nothing but the need for revenge in his expression.

"The king has asked me to accompany you on your coming journey to the Goblins' underground stronghold," Elatha offered, as if somehow the news would detract from the horrors laid out before them.

"Then we set out tonight. I will come back for her before she realises I have gone."

* * *

Feet moving silently over rocky ground, the cold lapping of water just detectable through Elvish boots, the softness of grass under foot, the whispering of wind through leaves…all of it passed by, as if it were nothing more than a dream. The walker moved at a swift, familiar pace, but he was struggling; weak and pained, tired and unhappy. But on he walked, on and on and on…Nuala saw this all too vividly. Watching this 'dream', she felt he had forsaken her.

The light and the darkness, warmth and cold, it all meant nothing to the princess and she was aware of none of it. But the prince's movements and his thoughts were constantly there in her consciousness. She could feel the pulling sensation, the need to reach him, but knew he was already some distance away. There was no way she could get to him.

"Nuada," she whispered desperately, and though it was not the first time the princess had spoken his name, the healer who was just exiting the room still paused to look upon the fallen maiden forlornly, though was quick to leave as the princess spoke again and her father took a seat by the bed, "Why have you left me? I did not let them, they bound me…I'm sorry. Perhaps it is my fault. I should have listened to you, I should have stayed away, and I know that now…"

King Balor sat by her side through much of this, wondering when his daughter would be recovered enough to open her eyes. How would she respond to the news that her face would be forever scarred? Her feeble, often almost unintelligible murmurings were always about her brother, and every day she whispered his name, as if asking for him, and was met only with silence.

Two days after Prince Nuada's departure for the Goblins' stronghold, The Furnace Caves, to learn of the army they offered, Princess Nuala's eyes finally opened. She saw her father at once, and there was only sadness in her expression when she regarded him.

"I am the 'Child of the Dawn'," she whispered, "The second child, the one you spoke of, the one who brought about the death of my mother."

"No, my dear daughter," Balor was quick to assure, "You did not bring about her death, how could anyone believe one so good and gentle as you would ever be able to cause such a thing? The only one between the two of you – the Child of Dawn and the Child of Midnight, as we first named you – who has ever brought about death with intention is your brother, five hours older than you."

Princess Nuala surprised the king by shaking her head, "I killed a man."

"What you do in defence is not the same as unnecessary revenge."

"Then how is he more guilty than I am? He killed those who sought his death and that was…"

"You have not seen what he did? He did it purely in revenge, Nuala. He killed every man in that building, regardless of how sure he was of their guilt, and he was not always merciful. He set alight the whole settlement, and that killed women and children, too," as he spoke these words, King Balor found he was glad for the horrified expression on his daughter's face. He _had _to separate them, and if he could not do it physically, he would do it mentally. Her response, then, surprised him.

"What did the prophecy say to make you despise us so? I will not believe your lies, for you are only trying to pull me from him," she tried to turn over, to look away, but ended up gasping in pain, and quickly rolled onto her back again, staring at the ceiling of woven vines. Their snow white and vivid blue blossoms were just opening, and a slight smile did find its way onto her face as she regarded their beauty, that expression fading quickly when she recognised the reason for her pain.

"You see, my daughter? There is happiness to be found without one such as him."

"You are so desperate, father, for the past," Nuala sighed, "And sometimes I agree that our lives would be far simpler, and less painful, if I had never known him. Yet I do not regret learning how to _feel_. How strange it is that the one you condemn as a monster is the one who taught me how to love. Surely you realise that I was not unhappy when I was alone, but nor was I happy, and those feelings were the same for my brother." _The one who has forsaken me_.

The king did not reply to these words, staring out of the window space at the twilit world thoughtfully, "I do understand," he admitted eventually, "And it pained me almost as much to see you incomplete then as it does to see you…the way you are now." He closed his eyes regretfully after saying these words, seeing the horror of remembrance flash in his daughter's eyes.

"What have they done to me?" she whispered fearfully, bringing a hand slowly up to touch her face and feeling the burn of pain as her fingers connected with the gash across her cheeks, "And what more are you keeping from me?"

"Nuala, I do not think you are in a fit state to…" Balor began, seeing his daughter begin to try and move again.

The king's words became somewhat obsolete, however, when she ignored his warning and forced herself into a sitting position. The pain was almost intolerable, but she simply had to know what had happened to her face. Careful to keep her expression emotionless, not wishing to distress Balor by admitting how much agony she really was in, the princess somehow succeeded in swinging herself around to sit on the edge of the bed. Her legs almost buckled as she forced herself to her feet, and her father had to catch her by the arm lest she fall.

"No, I have to see," she told him when he tried to help her back into a sitting position, "Please, I must."

She understood instantly why her father had been so unwilling to allow her to see her injuries once she was standing in front of the mirror. Tears stung her eyes as she stared at herself in confusion and dismay. The cut was a shocking blood red, still healing, and her tears sent flashes of pain through her skin as they trickled into the wound.

"Nuala," the king sighed, pulling gently on her arm to try and guide her back to lying on the bed, but the princess did not move, just continued to stare into the mirror.

"What does he look like, now?" she asked, her voice shuddering, "Does he look as…damaged as I do?"

"I…I do not know," Balor said eventually, "He left the same night he returned. I saw him only briefly, and the blood on his face was more hideous than anything; I could not see him clearly. Besides, my daughter, the scar will fade, it will not remain so brilliant, it may lose its colour altogether."

"Where did he go?"

"I sent him elsewhere," the king told her, and with some finality – there would be no disclosure on that matter, the princess realised.

"What else are you keeping from me, Father?" she was so relieved at the idea of her brother having no choice in the matter of leaving her that she did not press the issue – if he had been ordered to leave, that meant he had not forsaken her.

"I am your king, Nuala, and I can keep what I wish from you, but as it is, I am hiding nothing from your knowledge, I am merely waiting for the correct time in which to inform you."

"Then tell me something, please."

"The humans attacked the eastern part of the forest…war has been declared," Balor found himself steadying his daughter once again when she swayed in shock at this news, "We have taken the decision to found a true army to combat the humans and their vicious ways. The most recent attack has proved to us that to simply fight skirmishes amongst our beloved trees is far too dangerous these days."

"No," the princess gasped, "Please, no. No more deaths, no more fighting, no more wars, no more pain."

"I cannot change what is out of my control, Nuala."

"Yes, father, I know, but all of these horrors…I cannot bear them. I just want him back," she groaned, finally looking away from the mirror and returning to the bed unsteadily but unaided, just wanting to hide from the world and all those around her, "Please, bring him back to me."

"Your brother will remain your brother, Nuala," the king said sharply, turning away to hide his guilt, "He will return to us soon, but you will see him only when I wish you to." His daughter shuddered upon hearing these words, but only bowed her head in response.

"And _how_ soon will he return from this journey?" the princess asked, lying back and closing her eyes, feeling the waves of pain refusing to settle and no longer able to identify what was real and what was not. She wanted the prince back. She needed him, and despite all of her respect for her father, and her need to obey the king, Nuala knew she could never comply with that decree. Her brother would not let her, she knew that much.

"I do not know, perhaps ten days, but probably less. You must rest, and recover. What you did in the human settlement must never be repeated; I forbid you to leave my palace grounds, wherever that may be at any given time, unless you are in my company…until the day I die," with this the king left Nuala to consider those words, and no amount of speculation could explain what he was reprimanding her for actively doing. Her pain only increased at the idea of Balor believing she had brought the vicious attacks on herself; that she was guilty for what had happened.

"Nuada," she whispered into the darkness, "Please, hear me. I love you, and I need you here, the only one who understands, the only one I trust. Come back to me."

* * *

"Goblins and their lairs," Prince Nuada hissed, seeing the stones ahead of him rearranging themselves seemingly of their own accord into a wide ring, "What are the chances that we will leave this place alive?"

Elatha, standing at the battered prince's side, could not help but also feel a measure of unease as the ground enclosed by the stones buckled and cracked, spiralling away with an unfamiliar grinding sound to reveal a dark tunnel sloping steeply into the ground. His hand went automatically to the hilt of his sword when the dark outline of a figure became visible in the passageway, moving towards them with an awkward, shuffling gait, almost like a limp.

"Good! Good, King Balor has heard our offer!" the approaching creature cried in a voice that was at once high-pitched and gravelly.

"That we did," the prince called back, "I am here to learn more of the army you spoke of."

"Yes, yes, of course you are…these are desperate times indeed," the creature answered, the light finally reaching it, and Elatha found himself wishing such an occurrence had been avoided.

The figure was, of course, that of a Goblin, with greyish green skin and muddy coloured eyes set deep in a sharp, uneven featured face. His hair was reddish, and yet somehow tinted with green, singed at the tips and sprouting in tufts around tall, curved ears that had an uncanny resemblance to horns. The reason for the Goblin's limp was plain to see – its right leg was far shorter than its left. Seeing Elatha's scrutiny, the ugly creature grinned unconcernedly, showing crooked blackened teeth riddled with cracks and holes.

"Come along now, we must speak along the way…there is one within who wishes very much to speak with you," here the Goblin pointed – almost accusingly, Elatha noticed – towards Nuada, with a right arm that was perhaps a third as long again as its left, in complete reverse of its legs, "Perhaps when She has finally said what She must She will leave us all alone and return from whence She came."

"Who? Who wishes to speak with me? How do _you _even know who I am?"

"I would not, Prince Nuada, had She not told me…She knows everything about you, about your futures, about your sister, too. Yes, _her,_" the Goblin nodded emphatically when the prince's expression changed from confusion to dangerous suspicion, "All you wonder will be explained to you soon, all the answers you seek, even those you do not want to hear, will be revealed. But you must follow me quickly, She is anxious to see you."

The Goblin turned around then and began to limp back into the darkness, Elatha following uncertainly behind. Still, the prince paused, staring at the open grassland around himself as if expecting some kind of retribution for entering The Furnace Caves. He felt anxious; who was this being that knew so much of him? Could he trust the word of the Goblins at all? Could he stand another second without the princess?

Eventually, sighing at the world in general, the prince entered the tunnel, using his spear for support as he had for the whole of the journey from the Elvish Central Forest, though his movements were significantly less painful than they had been at the beginning. Strangely, this gave him no comfort, for he felt it distanced him from his sister. In the few times when he had closed his eyes at night and allowed sleep, he had been able only to sense her sadness, her pain and her longing; the more he felt this, the more desperate he became to return to her. Any distractions, any lengthening of his journey, were agonising, infuriating challenges of his patience and his sanity.

A low rumbling sounded behind Nuada as he stepped inside the tunnel, and he spun around to see the ground once more spiralling, closing over his head and plunging him into a moment of darkness. His eyes had no time to accustom to this change, however, for bursts of light erupted all along the unevenly carved soil tunnel around him; torches in the walls. The memory the flames induced was one of such intense fury that the prince almost could not bring himself to turn back around and join the Goblin and Elatha who were awaiting him at the end of the tunnel.

Both of the prince's companions eyed him warily when he did finally join them, and the Goblin was quick to hurry onwards. He led the two Elves through a series of linked caves and winding tunnels, descending deeper and deeper into the ground. The walls were lined almost continuously with metal cogs and wheels, all of them winding unceasingly to power machinery further into the labyrinth.

"You must understand that our offer is one born from desperation, yes?" the Goblin began eventually, "We would like very much to keep to our caves, just like you want your trees. We offer you an army, not of weak-bodied creatures, but an army of gold, indestructible giants; seventy times seventy soldiers."

"And this…army would be under the sole command of King Balor and no other?" Elatha asked sceptically, not liking the look of vicious hope on the prince's face.

"In effect, yes. A crown will be forged with which to control this army, and any being – without humanity in their ancestry – of royal blood who wears it undisputed will have absolute power over this Golden Army."

"You offer much," Prince Nuada pointed out, "What do you expect in return?"

"Only that our species is safe from humanity's unending onslaught on the beings of the world."

"Then I find I can only agree with your offer…and will put it to the king most emphatically," the prince's smile was brief and harsh, his eyes remaining untouched by the look, still glaring into the fire lit tunnel ahead with unmatchable fury.

Elatha felt his heart sink upon hearing his friend's words. After all, he thought, would the world really benefit from the unstoppable onslaught of such an army? He doubted it, and felt fearful of King Balor's potential agreement with Nuada.

The golden haired warrior's thoughts were forgotten, however, when the mouth of the next tunnel opened out suddenly into a vast stone hall. Pits of fire raged all around them, and the constant clang of metal on metal resounded in the ears of the surprised Elf. He looked up in amazement to see hundreds of criss-crossing stone walkways suspended over the flames, Goblins hard at work at anvils just as they were on the ground. Few of these creatures looked up to regard the two Elves as they followed their guide through the hall, so busy at their toils were they.

Eventually, the three reached the far wall of the tremendous chamber, where a high rectangle of silvery metal loomed before them. The Elves' Goblin guide stopped there, turning to a ruby topped lever in the wall and pulling it with a sharp snapping sound. Promptly the metal panel crumpled upwards, revealing a golden tinged room beyond.

"Here you must go in alone, prince," the Goblin informed, "You," he pointed to Elatha, "Must stay out here with me, for what he hears is for him alone."

Cheered by the hope of victory, and feeling the need for haste so that he could return to the princess, Nuada did not pause this time. He stepped through the portal quickly. The metal doorway slid closed behind him, and he found himself standing in a large, featureless oval chamber with no clear source for the golden streams of light setting the place alight with a dull, dreamlike glow. The ground was covered in sand, though many grains glittered an unnatural red.

"So, you are here," a rough but vaguely feminine voice hissed. The Elvish prince turned quickly to his right, to the source of the sound, and saw a hunched figure some distance from him, shrouded in a thin cloak and deep hood of a colour almost identical to that of the sand.

"The Goblin said you know of me…of my future," the prince said eventually, and the shrouded being nodded, giving a glimpse of a lipless mouth and large, white teeth above a pointed, pallid chin.

"I do, prince," the creature told him, bringing up sickly coloured hands to touch its hood, as if contemplating whether or not to reveal its appearance to him. Its fingers were long, with no visible nails, coming to sharp, blackened points at the tips, while its arms were equally deathlike, appearing rotten in places as the sleeves of the cloak fell back, revealing bare bone.

"Who are you?" Nuada gasped in horror, automatically taking a step back.

"I am the one who knows your future, who tells all of the prophecies that have shaped your life so far," the creature laughed briefly, a breathless, choking sound, and then it threw back its cloak. Great black-feathered wings opened up behind it, too tattered for flight, each covered in a line of small yellow eyes, blinking rapidly as they fixed on the prince.

The being wore a dress of feathers and bone, and its neck was covered in wrinkled skin that did little to hide the withered veins beneath. By far the most terrifying thing about the creature was its face, which possessed the qualities of a barely skin-covered skull only up to its exaggerated, pointed cheekbones. Here the sides of its head curved outwards and down before doubling back and arcing upwards, to create a half moon shaped forehead, cracked and weathered looking. A thin veil of cracked skin covered eyes that were probably empty and certainly blind.

"I am the one your father sought out those many years ago in the childish hope of saving one he loved when he knew it was impossible. He came too late – she was already dead, and I gave him a prophecy of what he would do had he heard the first prophecy; the fact that she was stone by this time had altered the way he would act, and so the first prophecy had become effectively obsolete. How ironic that without the second foretelling, the first alone would never have caused him to do what he did."

"The Angel of Death," Prince Nuada whispered with a mixture of awe and horror.

"Yes, and I have much to tell you."

"I have no need for more prophecies, they have done nothing but ruin my family thus far."

"I give you no more prophecies but those you seek, the old ones, the ones your father used, and in so doing created them and made them true and real," the Angel promised, "No, I have more than prophecies to give you, Prince Nuada, I have a foretelling already set on course. You have chosen the Golden Army, and so you have chosen your fate."

"You speak of riddles in riddles," the prince growled in frustration, and the Angel of Death held out its hands in a gesture of acceptance.

"Perhaps. I sense your need for haste…ah, you long to go back to her, the Child of Dawn, the one alone you can love, the only one your father seeks to shelter from you. He sees your hatred for the humans is darkening your heart and he wishes his daughter was not under the influence of one soon to be so…wicked."

"Let her be the decider of the truth of my heart, not one such as you!"

"I speak only the truth, prince," came the hissed reply, "I have no desire to cause you anger…I have no feelings at all. Your need for revenge will consume you, and it has already begun. Lust for their blood will begin to devour you, too, and you will become a saviour to some and a monster to the rest."

"If it means I can save my people from the tyranny of humanity, so be it. I will always love _her _and regardless of what you say I will do only what is right for the creatures of the earth."

"You are already sick with rage, and the need for revenge. Anger, hatred, retribution…so it begins," the Angel of Death uttered quietly, "You will understand, when the time comes."

"And the prophecies you gave my father? What of them? What can they tell me of my 'future' and his reasoning?" Prince Nuada demanded, truly not wishing to dwell on the strange promises of the monstrous being before him.

"You are full of haste again, so strange in one who should expect to never die. You have slept little to quicken your journey, and on the third day of your travels, when the pain laid you low and you had to stop, the delay enraged you. Two sunrises later, and still you are desperate to catch up that time."

"Then you understand my pain. Please, tell me the prophecies and allow me to leave."

"Of course," the Angel bowed its head, "Though once you have heard, you may wish you never had."

"I must know, whether it causes sadness and fear or whether it does not."

"Very well. Then learn your fate. The first prophecy, the one your father never heard, is this:

_Born into love shall be the child of midnight,_

_Born into death shall be the child of dawn,_

_Love bound and yet forbidden, fated to be broken_

_And so fated to be the ruin of the world."_

Upon hearing this, the prince did feel a sense of dread creeping into his being, a chill running through his veins. His heart felt ready to stop, and he understood the Angel's warning. What could those words mean, "fated to be broken"? He was about to ask when the creature before him waved a hand for silence and spoke again,

"And the second prophecy, the one your father brought about, is as follows:

_The love you let them share will kill you, as it killed her._

_You will choose one to keep, and one to send away; one to love, one to leave._

_Their love will destroy your world and all you care for, sending innocence to flight before your eyes tell you it is too late._

_A love for a love and a death for a death._

_Your beloved world torn apart by your legacy and their regret."_

"No," the prince's voice was sharp now, "Your lies are clear to me, though they were not to him. I know the love I share can never be broken. I know that my sister and I could never ruin this world, such atrocities are for the humans alone to commit."

"Then go, Prince Nuada, and prove fate wrong. Love her as you should and the world will suffer nothing. One moment of selfishness will cost you eternity."

With that, the metal door opened again, letting in the sounds of roaring flames and hammering tools. When the prince looked back around to demand more from the Angel of Death, the strange creature had gone, leaving not a trace of its monstrous passing. Relieved by this, but more than a little unsettled by what he had heard, Nuada turned towards Elatha and his Goblin guide and felt his heart soar at the prospect of returning to the princess.


	9. So It Begins

**So It Begins…**

Hours passed by, days, and Nuala finally found she could stand and walk again with little pain. Still, her sadness, and the king's orders to confine her, meant that she spent much of her time alone in her room, staring out of her window and wishing for the return of the only one who made her whole.

The guards had taken to patrolling outside of her room, both beyond the door and the window, day and night. King Balor's determination to keep the twins separate was obviously very strong. It seemed impossible that the prince could get inside Nuala's chambers without detection, and the princess dreaded the consequences of him being found out.

So it was that one night as she stood by the window watching the distant bats flit as silhouettes across the shimmering moon, Nuala heard the call of a guard from the far end of the corridor of trees. An unwilling response was given by the one patrolling around her bedroom door and then she heard his footsteps receding into the distance. Instantly she found she was holding her breath, feeling that all too familiar pull, that desperate longing magnified into a physical form.

"Nuala," the word cut through the empty darkness, filling it with warmth and relief of a magnitude that was at first overwhelming.

Despite her intense emotions, the princess paused only for a moment, and then she hurried to the door, flinging it open. The second she saw him in front of her, all the fears went away, and she just collapsed into his arms as he reached out for her. Their lips finally settled against each other, and she wrapped herself around him even as he simply fell to his knees, consequently taking her with him.

For several brief but precious moments, nothing mattered but the feel of his body against her, and then the two became aware of the approaching footsteps at exactly the same time. The prince was quick to turn and close the door, careful to do so silently though he wanted only to return to kissing Nuala, and to bury her against him forever.

When Nuada did look around again, the princess had no chance to ask for any kind of explanation regarding why he had ever left, because they collided once more in a passionate kiss. He seemed to sense her doubt, however, and urgently reached for her hand, pressing her palm against his. Instantly, this action flooded the princess with emotions so intense she could hardly believe they were real outside of _her _love for _him_.

"You see? You should never doubt me," the prince told her fiercely, and she had no answer for him, her breath catching in her throat as his thoughts continued to flow into hers. When his memories of the vicious night at the human settlement began, he was quick to pull his hand away, but too late.

"So it is true?" the princess whispered in dismay, pulling away from him with all the strength she had, only for him to pull her straight back to him, "I thought he was lying. I could not believe you would be so cruel. Let go of me! How does that make you any better than…them? Let _go_."

"Is that what you think? That I am no better than those men?" Nuada demanded, standing as the princess did, anger once more beginning to show in his expression, "I saved you from their evil. I could very easily not have done."

"Could you? Would you be able to even stand had you left me? The pain was equal in us both, just as it always is, regardless of the source," Nuala reminded him, stepping back as he tried to approach, suddenly feeling real fear of him. This was even more disturbing for her because, despite his menace, she was fighting off the urge to return to his arms.

"Then you believe everything you just felt is a lie? That I do not love you? I did what I felt I had to," he added more gently, seeing the fright evident in her expression and looking away guiltily, "I…know it is hard for you, I know that you feel you can trust no one after what happened, but of all creatures you alone can know the absolute truth of my heart, whether it be wicked or not. You will always be able to trust me, for all of eternity," he held out his arms to her, seeing the tears welling in her eyes, "Come back to me. I will not touch you unless you wish it."

Slowly, the princess did return to him, still not touching him though she was close enough to feel his warmth all around her. Her expression was nervous when she looked back up to him, her hand hovering over his heart.

"Is it wrong that when you…kissed me in the place of my capture I forgot all of my agony and all of my shame? I have no words good enough for what I felt in that moment, feeling you there, feeling safe. Is it wrong that…when they…attacked me I tried to imagine how it would be if you…" here she shuddered, remembering, and shook her head, "I could not, and yet that only makes me want to imagine it more…away from those terrible bonds, the smoke and the darkness, only in your arms and with the beauty of the world around us…I want to know," Nuala murmured, allowing her hand to settle against his chest, feeling his heart beating through the thin fabric of his tunic, "Touch me, if you can see through the horror of the scar they have burdened me with."

"Nuala," the prince whispered, "You are as beautiful to me as you ever were." With this he leaned closer, pressing her against him with a hand against the small of her back. He smiled against her cheek, drifting his lips across her jaw, as he heard her whimper in anticipation as his fingers found the lacing at the back of her dress.

"Please," the princess gasped, and shivered when she felt him laugh softly, his free hand gently pushing back her hair as he kissed her neck softly.

"I know the prophecies," he whispered, pulling the first loop of lacing free…

Loud footsteps echoed quickly beyond the door, and before either of the two Elves could respond, the portal was flung wide. This lack of courtesy told them the one thing they had dreaded the most: they were, very suddenly, in the presence of the king, their father, and his anger was bound to be disastrous.

"You! Why must you always disobey me? Move away from her, Nuada, your behaviour disgusts me!" Balor raged, and his next words became a wordless snarl when the prince very pointedly pressed another kiss against Nuala's throat before obeying the king.

"Father…" the princess began, but when Balor turned to glower at her, she fell silent and took several hurried steps back until she was standing against the wall, knowing there was no way she could refasten her dress without being noticed and causing more trouble for Nuada.

"Must I lock you up to keep you from him? Are the boundaries I have set not already clear enough?" the king sighed, seeing the distress on his daughter's face, "Why am I cursed to be disobeyed by my own children? Those I love most dearly in this world?"

"Perhaps because you expect of them what they cannot give to you?" Nuada suggested angrily, finally looking around to regard his father.

"Restraint. Is that not what all parents ask of their children?" Balor glanced towards the princess then, before returning his gaze to Nuada and taking the prince by the shoulder, "You and I have much to discuss aside from this," he reminded, and gestured towards the door.

"You cannot stop us, Father," Nuada said, more as a promise to the princess than anything else, before stepping out of the room, invisible in the darkness of the open doorway.

"I shall, my son," the king was quick to reply. When he looked back to Nuala, his face showed no anger, only sadness, "You seem to forget that I am your king. If I forbid you never to see him again, then you shall never see him again. I did think such a decree would be harsh even for you, but you are making me reconsider. From now on in my court you shall refer to each other as 'Brother' and 'Sister', as you should," Balor added, and turned to glare pointedly at his son when a low growl of anger escaped the prince.

"Father, please…"

"No, Nuala, you cannot dissuade me," a great weariness showed suddenly in Balor's countenance, his shoulder's slumped, and the intensity of emotion visible in his eyes waned, "This thing you call 'love' will be the death of us, my children. Would that you could never be burdened with such an evil emotion's pain; it causes such anger and such sadness, it gives excuses for such evil deeds and so moments where you wonder whether you even can go on anymore. A Seer, too caring for her own good, and a Warrior, too vengeful for his own sanity…together what could you become? I have been given a glimpse of the future, and I will not allow it to happen."

"I see now," Nuada whispered, listening to his father's words with growing contempt, "Your actions have set in motion the very actions you tried to prevent. _A love_ _fated to be broken_," he breathed, "_And so fated to be the ruin of the world_."

Both Balor and Princess Nuala remained oblivious to the prince's realisation, and the king left his daughter's chamber in anger, slamming the door behind himself. The muffled sob that accompanied this action almost enraged Nuada beyond all reason…he found it almost impossible to believe that King Balor could ignore the princess's pleas so easily. Still, he succeeded in withholding his anger, and instead followed his father in silence down the corridor of arched trees, on the path to the throne room.

"Elatha told you I had returned," the prince stated eventually as they passed through the throne room's antechamber, the guards as ever looming dangerously along its walls.

"Of course. He is a loyal subject," the king added pointedly, "Yet you cannot blame him, Nuada. He did not realise you had not gone straight to me, but as soon as I did hear of your arrival I knew where you would be."

"If you had practised the restraint you so desire in my…sister and I, you would have had no need to upset your daughter. You could have simply denied your suspicions and remained here until I came to you," the prince sighed as they stepped through in to the throne room, empty but for several more guards.

"And when would you have deigned to come to me, my son? Surely the news you bear is more pressing than…" Balor shuddered at the words he had been about to speak, seating himself upon his throne and looking despairingly at Nuada, "Would the sun have risen in full by the time you did bring such important information of the Goblins' army to me? Are you so selfish and…and shamelessly…" here the king stopped once more, simply shaking his head and looking away.

"Perhaps I am," the prince shrugged, "But deaths have already befallen, more deaths are soon to follow them…what difference does it make if I choose to tell you of the Goblins' offer now or tomorrow? Surely you expect no treaty with the humans? So what does it matter if I break their superstitious and pointless rules of love? It is nothing but a word and a feeling, harming no creatures…with the exception of the humans, who will always find a way to cause destruction out of such good emotions as devotion and adoration, will they not? Such greedy, heartless beings that they are, they find in love the need to own and to destroy."

"Truly?" Balor laughed mirthlessly, "You are speaking of yourself more than you are speaking of them. If you did not feel such an overwhelming need to _possess _her, none of this would have happened. She would never have been so badly harmed, and you would not have felt the need to _murder _the people of that settlement."

"Then you blame their evil deeds on me? I love her and so I must keep her safe."

"Then why not keep her safe from you, too? You know deep down that something was wrong in what you did to the settlement that night. None of those women or children had anything to do with your sister, nor did many of the men. Think, my son…did you only attack those seeking to hurt Nuala? What truly happened that night?" Balor added seeing something almost like guilt, or perhaps just realisation, flash in the prince's expression.

"No," Nuada denied eventually, his voice barely above a whisper, staring at the ground, and his father was left to interpret the meaning of that one word. Still, something about the tone of the prince's voice and the way he stood there, refusing to look up, made Balor feel a little more sympathy for his son.

"Do not think I have no empathy with you, Nuada," Balor said, a little mournfully, "You were brought up as a prince, as my potential heir, but away from the palace, and that sense of not quite belonging anywhere permanently is painful, I know. I too was brought up as a warrior, and fought as one in the long past battles with the trolls, where my arm was cut off," he raised his right arm, the hand there veiled in a glove, but Nuada knew it was actually false from the upper arm down, made of silver, "And I too fell in love, dearly, madly so. I adored her, revered her, as you doubtlessly feel towards Nuala. I understand the beautiful agony of that most famed of good emotions, that most overrated, precious and dangerous of feelings: love."

"And because of the love torn from you, the idea of your children sharing such an emotion is utterly abhorrent to you?" Nuada demanded disgustedly, "I could not live without her, or she without me, and it is true that more than one interpretation can be taken from those words. Neither of us could find love beyond that of each other and only misery in great distance. Would you so willingly distress your own daughter? After everything she has suffered, her heart is pure, her thoughts only ones of good and compassion. I pretend to possess no such virtues…except when I think of her.

"You speak of the horrors my feelings of rage and need for revenge have wrought, and of how you feel you must keep her from me…and yet the more you pull me from her, the more my fury takes hold of me. She is my sanity, the only one who can keep me whole and…safe from myself. Her very presence and voice are calming – without their memory, or the promise of knowing them again, I feel as if I should soon go mad," the prince shuddered, still refusing to look up, and the king sighed, shaking his head.

"I have denied you much, my son," he admitted, "And I feel I must deny you both much more. I forbid you to take her as your bride, as you so dream of doing, and I forbid you to openly show love towards her after this night," Balor felt his heart grow heavy when he saw Nuada's fists clench, "I am sorry, but my resolve is unshakable – stronger than the sorrow I feel at the idea of causing her – and you – so much more pain."

"Because you hope for a treaty with the humans," Nuada growled, "Among whom incest is so murderous a taboo. Death to those who cannot help the – perhaps unfortunate – love they feel. But it sometimes takes little for such a tender, warm feeling as honest as affection to grow cold and hard when it is forbidden and torn asunder. Soon it withers to all-consuming hatred. You are at war with humanity and still you think of treaties above the happiness of your own children."

"As it is, my son, I am far more interested in news of the army the Goblins have promised us," Balor pointed out, and Nuada did finally look up, his expression dark.

"Very well. They offer a 'Golden Army', an indestructible clockwork force of seventy times seventy soldiers. They would be unstoppable – that was the Goblins' promise – controlled with a golden crown, and whoever wears this crown unchallenged, so long as they are of royal blood and not of human descent, has the army under their command."

"And you are in favour of this force?" Balor asked, doubt evident in his tone.

"Yes, Father. To stop the horrors of humanity once and for all, to keep the world safe from them…there is no other way available to us if we are to fight successfully against humankind, whose numbers are so vast and ever growing," the prince's eyes were ablaze with fierce emotion as he spoke, "Father, you denied me love and happiness, but you cannot deny your realm peace; as their king it is your duty. Build me this army, and promise me the world will be free from the increasing tyranny of humanity and its vicious ways."

"I…" Balor paused, but the look of hope was in his eyes, too – the humans had become an ever-growing, never ceasing threat over the years, and even as they spoke creatures of the Magical Realms could be dying, "Very well," the king sighed at length, "I will send word to build this Golden Army."

Upon hearing these words, Prince Nuada did stand straight again, a measure of gladness returning to his expression. Behind this, though, his thoughts roiled with incoherent fury, all of it aimed towards his father. So it was that he once again felt the need to kill as a physical pain on his skin, and his father was fortunate that only the royal guards were permitted any form of weaponry in the throne room.

"The fighting continues as we speak," Nuada said eventually, once a messenger had been called for and promptly sent to the Goblins' Furnace Caves, "Allow me to go and fight with the other Elvish warriors, Father," _or else I fear this madness will affect you; in the most terrible way. I must…kill._

"Nuada! You remember what happened the last time you fought in such a battle; you will not only be putting yourself, but also your sister in grave danger," Balor reminded.

"My skills are far in advance of what they were then," the prince was quick to counter, "If this Golden Army is to be made, then any battles I do engage in are bound to be fleeting ones."

"And so far less needy of one so proficient – or reckless, I might add – as you. But still you need to kill, I see it in your eyes," the king shuddered, "Your growing bloodlust is frightening and dangerous for us all, my child," _but I dread to think what will become of him if his madness is not sated, _"So very well, you will leave with Elatha once again, at the hour before the sunrise. But remember, Nuada, revenge is a very powerful and destructive compulsion. Keep your feelings in check; I will have no more Elvish blood spilled on account of your pride and anger. Remember, too, that the hour of your departure fast approaches."

Hearing this warning, Prince Nuada understood the significance of his father's earlier words; that he was forbidden to openly show his love for Nuala _after this night_. Still, this small mercy – the promise of a fleeting but precious time with the princess – did little to alleviate the sadness growing within him. He could not find it within himself to thank his father, and so simply turned in silence and left the throne room.

* * *

The princess was still wide-awake, sitting up on her bed, when she heard a light tap on her bedroom door. The sound was so quiet that she was amazed she had detected it at all. For a moment she blinked into the darkness, and then there was a voice.

"Nuala, open the door. I can hear the patrol guards coming."

Instantly, she was on her feet, suddenly glad that she had remained in her day clothes and not dressed for night. She went straight to the door, unlocking it swiftly and pulling it open. For a moment they just looked at each other, because they could not help themselves. Then the sound of the approaching guards became more obvious, and Nuala pulled the prince inside, relocking the door behind him.

"Thank you," he sighed softly, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room was electric. Nuala could almost _feel_ his presence in the room, and she remained turned away even as her shoulder ached with the expectation of his touch. She closed her eyes in relief when the contact did come.

"Why did you risk coming here?" she asked in a whisper, eventually building up the courage to turn around and face him, her heart almost failing as his fingers drifted over her neck, sliding over her skin to her arms, "How furious the king would be if he knew you had come back…so short a time after he forbade us…"

"I had to see you," the prince admitted honestly, his expression dark as he refused to look into her eyes.

Nuala knew what he was going to say long before the words could leave him. Quickly she turned away, unthinkingly going to her bed and sitting on the edge; she did not think she could stand with the weight of such sadness.

"To the war. You are being sent to the war."

"In a way, yes."

Nuala still would not look up as he knelt in front of her, taking her hands in each of his.

"I will come back," he vowed, but the princess just sighed, pulling one of her hands away as she turned around and lay back on the bed, unwilling to meet his eyes, so he felt the need to continue, "It does hurt," the prince admitted, "Knowing I will have to leave you."

It was only a moment before he joined her on the bed, his head resting on her stomach. She could feel his sadness and pain, but also his determination, as she slid her hand from his to run her fingers through his hair. The princess was not quite sure who was comforting who, or if a distinction could be made.

"Don't go, please," she murmured, "It feels wrong. Something is so wrong."

"The choice has been made," he whispered, "I cannot change it."

"But it hurts me, too," Nuala reminded him, and the prince closed his eyes with a shudder as her fingers drifted over his shoulder, to his chest.

"I will not let anything bad happen…" he started to say, but the princess made a small sound of protest, quickly putting her hand over his mouth to stop those words.

"Don't say that, Nuada," she told him, and he raised his head, turning to look into her eyes, "You cannot promise that. I know you would never forgive yourself anyway if something did befall, however insignificant. Just a pin prick on a finger would…"

"You are right. You should never feel pain," he smiled gently then, moving up a little as he rested his hand against her cheek, "You are so good, so perfect. How can you care for me? How far from you am I?"

"I am no distance at all," the princess promised, "I feel you are always in me, your dreams are mine, while mine are yours. So I am always in you, too."

"But you saw so many horrors in my memories, you know I inflicted them, and yet still you want me to stay," the prince shook his head in wonder, "You intrigue me, and you awe me," he whispered, moving closer.

"Do not speak of it," the princess pleaded, glancing away unhappily, "Do not speak of those memories, for as long as I do not think of them all is simple. You did hurt me, by going against what could so easily have been my last wish – to cause no more death," she winced when the spark of anger, or perhaps just frustration, appeared in the prince's eyes. He surprised her, then by sighing and putting a hand in front of those eyes, as if knowing the terrible emotions he was betraying.

"I was blinded by rage," Nuada admitted softly, "I could think of nothing but revenge, of my hatred for them, of my love for you," he groaned, "Why is it that we must always descend to this, to such arguments as these? Before…I only wanted to show you the truth of my feelings, and in so doing I admitted to committing the very thing you have the right to hate me for. I am…"

"No," the princess stopped him, feeling guilt now along with her sadness, "I will not hear an apology from you when I was the one who started that argument in the first place. So forgive me, after all is it not the same as forgiving yourself, too?"

Hearing those words, the prince's expression softened slowly as he finally looked back down into her eyes, and Nuala could feel herself starting to lift nearer, as if pulled by a force she could not control. A soft moan escaped her when she managed to gain control of herself again, remembering the rules now commanding her life. The prince smiled at her knowingly, but there was sadness in his eyes.

"Just once, Nuala," he pleaded softly, "Forget what Balor told you. Does it matter so much? To follow what he tells you?" he came closer as he spoke, and the princess could feel her resolve weakening. Her limbs felt weak, she felt so _helpless_ beneath him and yet he was not touching her. How strange, she thought, that her heart and her body agreed they needed him, but her mind tried to fight her feelings, just because her father had told her what she felt was wrong.

"He has decreed that I may never leave the palace, wherever that is at any given time, unless accompanied by him – for as long as he lives," she managed to admit eventually, and defiance showed plainly in the prince's expression.

"And what if he never dies? Will you obey him forever? Forget, _forget_."

Regardless of her loyalty to the king, Nuala could not stop the warrior from moving nearer – if she could have, she knew her will would not have been strong enough for the task. So it was that the prince's lips settled over hers, and suddenly she did not know if she was pushing him away or pulling him closer. He resisted her weakening pushes on his shoulders, and the princess could feel him smiling against her, kissing her slowly and yet too briefly.

His eyes were blazing when he pulled back suddenly, leaving Nuala gasping, clinging to him. He frowned as tears began to spill over the princess's cheeks, and kissed her again gently.

"Why are you crying?" he whispered against her lips.

"You are going," came the answer, and the prince sighed as she spoke again, her hand finding his, seeking out the time of his leave-taking, "So soon," the princess added, "What I asked of you earlier still stands…" her voice trailed away as his hands once more found the lacing of her dress, pulling several more loops free with agonising slowness.

"You left it," he noted, referring to the partially unfastened state her dress had been in when last he left.

"Yes, I knew you would return to me, though not for how long," Nuala admitted, "And you will be gone before this is even truly begun."

"I must go," Nuada told her darkly.

"No!"

"Yes. And we will finish this when I return."

Then, despite her protests and her desperate attempts to keep hold of him, he freed himself from her and was gone into the night; gone to war. A short while later, the princess also left her room, going to the far southwestern wing of the palace. She knew her destination well; a short, pale, empty corridor at the end of which stood a tall, vine-shrouded archway, high in the side of a large hill. From here she could see the forest continuing far below her and slowly rising up in a sea of emerald leaves, misty in the slowly awakening morning.

She could just about see the curve of the forested hill ahead of her, high above, but she found her eyes drawn from her attempt to see the rays of the awakening sun breaking over the rise as she felt a familiar pull on her being. For far below, crossing a wide river bordered on both sides by the forest, the princess saw two Elvish figures, sheltered in cloaks of black and brown. Undoubtedly she knew the prince was one of these two travellers, and a slight smile came to her face when she saw the figure in black pause at the far side of the stream while his companion continued onwards, oblivious. She watched Nuada, the one who had stayed, turn and look back at her, such a movement almost unnoticeable at such a distance and veiled as it was in the mist. Still, the meaning of that moment was lost on neither of the twins.

"I love you, too," she whispered with a smile, and watched as the warrior did inevitably vanish into the trees.

* * *

Feverish excitement was in the air, fuelled by the roar of the mighty furnaces and the ever-growing presence of the mighty constructs slowly taking shape over those blazing flames. Ridged, intricately patterned plates of gold had been sculpted to form hollow exoskeletons, blades fastened onto hands larger than the massive anvils they had started life upon.

With the groan of metal the first of these warriors was released from its place locked above the flames. The chain upon which it was suspended clanked rhythmically, almost like the heartbeats of a living being as if heralding the birth of a new creature as the first member of the Golden Army slid smoothly to the ground. Its knees bent upon landing to lessen the thunderous impact, and then the construct slowly stood straight again, metal joints groaning, for all the world as if it were alive.

A great cheer erupted in the hall as more and more of these warriors touched down on the stone floor. Through it all the Golden Army, amassing steadily in dizzying numbers, remained still and impassive, inactive until the day the Golden Crown would be claimed and they could be commanded. Their sole purpose, of course, was to fight, but the most important question was certainly for whom.

"The crown! The crown is complete!" one of the Goblins smiths called in the roar of cheers, and eyes began to blaze not only with pride, but also hope. The humans could be defeated once and for all.

"It must be sent to King Balor without delay," came the eventual response from one of the fur bedecked Goblin chiefs, "These humans are beginning to drive us all…mad!"

Even as the celebrations began, the crown, locked safely away in a box of thick metal, was placed carefully within a Goblin cart – a contraption powered by steam and fire. Cogs span, levers and bars flicked into place, and the strange machine, along with its precious contents and its shrouded driver, shot off into the darkness, heading straight for the city of the Elves and so setting in motion an unalterable course of events that would leave no life, and no love, untouched by its horrors.

* * *

The sun was blazing in all of its glory over the hilltop; its strengthening light streamed through the forest canopy and set the world alight with colour. Here the Elves crouched among the branches and falling leaves of autumn, and from this vantage point they could see the main border of the forest with the open land.

The rocky edge of a steep-sided valley put a halt to the trees just beyond the base of the hill, and on the other side of this ravine stood human settlements. Their fires had been kept alive throughout the night, and the smoke they continued to produce darkened the very air. Farmland reached on almost to the horizon, nothing but scarring in the landscape to Elvish eyes. To them it seemed the humans were taking from the land but giving nothing back, rather than working _with_ it as the Elves and other creatures – both magical and not so – always had.

Such a scene of human life would have been enough cause for Prince Nuada to draw his blades, but as it was he had a more practical justification for his outrage and disgust. Humans were gathering, arriving from the north, south and west, converging at the settlement closest to the border valley. Their numbers were already large and gaining fast…Away from human sight, Elvish steel gleamed.

"They must all die," Nuada growled from his place hidden high in one tree, looking out at the humans with clear disdain, "Those pitiful humans. How can such creatures deign to live in a world that would be so good and beautiful without them?"

"Killing them will do nothing to bring back whatever it is you feel they took from you," Elatha, reminded, his tone comparatively mild as he looked up from a lower branch to see the prince's gaze fixed hatefully upon the amassing army to the south.

"The palace lies but a short distance behind us," he snapped back, "Down the north-eastern side of this hill, across the river and among the leaves of the rise beyond. She's there," his voice was suddenly soft, catching on those words, "Not knowing, just waiting and waiting. I will not let them find her. I will not let them defeat us."

"The palace is all but invisible to human eyes – why would they seek to destroy that particular part of the forest when nothing appears to distinguish it from the rest of the endless trees around them?" Elatha found himself trying to promise.

"Then why could I see her so clearly from the river?" Nuada whispered thoughtfully as if the very idea of the princess calmed him.

Elatha winced at the prince's words, not sure how he was supposed to respond, and then with a sigh pushed aside his feelings of incredulity regarding the twins. After all, the prince did not think his own feelings were wrong. Elatha found he could not pass harsh judgement on something that was so sincere.

"That, Nuada, is because you are very much in love, in your…own way," Elatha told him eventually, staring steadfastly at the gathering army, "Nor are you human with human eyes to try and see with. Also, I think you understood, and perhaps even knew, where to look for her."

"How much longer must we wait before we can attack?" the prince asked, suddenly impatient.

"The archers will inform us when they are ready; when we can advance," Elatha sighed, glancing only briefly at the eager gleam of silver from the intricately carved head of the prince's spear. It frustrated the golden haired warrior more when the other Elves around them began to agree with Nuada's sentiment and Elatha could not help but wonder when – and why – the world had suddenly become so bloodthirsty.

"You do not think well of this," the prince stated, even as the leader of the archers emerged from the trees ahead and Nuada swung himself down to the ground to speak with the new arrival.

"No," Elatha nodded, and the prince glanced up at him briefly, looking surprised, "Would Nuala be pleased that you are in favour of bloodshed?" No answer or response was forthcoming, but somehow he knew the prince had heard him – Nuada was a little too still for one who is calm.

"We are ready, my lord. Arrows are aimed at human hearts even as we speak, and the vine ropes have been lowered to the valley floor," the archers' captain informed, and the prince nodded gladly.

"We will not fail in this," he smiled grimly, making the signal for his warriors to descend from their hiding places among the trees, landing upon silent feet and flitting through the trees, deadly and unforgiving.

"You should be more willing to fight, Elatha," the prince said eventually, once all the others had left, turning to regard his childhood friend and not liking the carefully blank expression he was met with, "You lost more than anyone in the battle with the humans among the burning trees."

"Revenge such as that which you enacted is not something I strive to achieve, Nuada."

"It is the only way we can stop the threat constantly imposed upon our people!" the prince shot back, "So do you condone what happened to your family's home? To your _father_?"

"No! I…"

"Then come with me and fight! This war is only just beginning, I promise you, and it will sweep you up in its tide whether you like that or not," with these words, the prince turned and headed down the hill, following his soldiers, and Elatha only paused a moment. His loyalty to his friend – and the need to hide a truth that could horrify the Elves far more than the love shared by the twins – soon won over his reasons for holding back.

All too soon, the edge of the forest stood before Elatha, and he could see the forms of Elvish warriors crouched between the trees, bows drawn back tightly, arrows sparking with vicious flames. Of the close-combat warriors only the prince remained in the cover of the trees, looking out over the small valley towards the gathering army, spinning his spear in one hand almost absentmindedly.

Elatha watched in dismay as the other Elvish warriors reached the edge of the valley and swung themselves down with the aid of the knotted vines that had been flung down before them and tied to the closest trees. Still, he could satisfy himself that the plan could not possibly go wrong – the warriors were to climb back up the other side of the valley and into the human lands, taking the army by surprise and killing as many enemies as they could before swinging back across to Elvish territory and the safety of the forest…

When the first cry of pain rang out, no one moved. At first, Elatha assumed one of the arrows had already been fired, but then he recognised the voices of Elves, not humans. None of the warriors that had descended appeared on the other side of the valley, and he rushed to Prince Nuada's side, who was now standing looking down at the floor of the valley. Scores of humans had been awaiting the dozen Elves that had gone down the side of the valley and blood was already colouring the stream below their feet.

In seconds the Elves were overrun, and all Elatha could do was watch in utter disgust as those he knew were cut down. By his side Nuada remained unmoving, having given the signal for the archers to fire, and a volley of arrows rained down upon the humans, succeeding in at least incapacitating several, but to no avail. Soon the time came when the two Elves could watch no more, and they withdrew deep into the trees.

"They knew," the prince growled eventually, and Elatha felt his blood run cold at the implication – for more reasons than one, "_Somehow _they already knew our plan and where we would be."

"You are suggesting that someone…told them?"

"Yes, indeed," Nuada nodded, taking a deep breath and finally sheathing his spear, looking to the north – to the palace – with a look that promised death. His voice was shaking with a mixture of fury and anguish when next he spoke, making a swift pace back up the hill, "And who would ever think to save a human life…but her?"

"You cannot be speaking of the princess!" Elatha gasped, struggling to keep up with his warrior friend.

"Of course I am! Who else would _dare_? Who else would be so blind, and seek the least number of deaths? Who else am I to blame but her? Am I to blame you, perhaps, Elatha?"

"Yes," Elatha paused there, feeling his heart pounding, wondering whether it was indeed him, "Sooner that than your own sister! She could have endangered you, had it been her that gave away the information…do you think her to be so cruel? And what do you intend to do if you find she is the…betrayer?"

"I will kill her, just like I would any other of that kind," the prince snarled, stopping suddenly, shaking, and there was such fury evident in his eyes that it was obvious he was not thinking clearly regarding what he had just said.

"No! Utter madness!" Elatha could hardly believe what he had just heard, "You would be killing yourself, in more ways than one. Think, my prince, think, please."

"You must understand, Elatha," Nuada sighed, and it was strange to see tears of grief and rage spilling over his cheeks, "That I cannot think. My thoughts would kill me, as surely as I could kill her." With that he, turned away, and began making his way once more to the palace.

"You will not do it, Nuada!" Elatha called after him, but those words did little to convince either of them, "Otherwise you are a fool! An insane fool!"


	10. Betrayals

**Betrayals**

Something was wrong. She knew it instinctively and yet was not sure what to make of that feeling. It could mean anything, after all. Nuala had been at the archway for a little over two hours, not truly wishing to leave that place, hoping to see the prince's return. So it was that she had finally seated herself on the edge of the opening as morning truly dawned, her feet swinging freely in the open air. The princess could not help thinking that it would be a long, straight drop to the forest floor so far below, and instantly felt confusion over why such an idea would ever occur to her.

The sense of menace began to grow, and it was with mounting unease that the princess realised her brother's thoughts were very close. She had at first assumed she felt danger from him because he was in battle, and it was only then that she realised he certainly was not.

"Nuada?" she whispered uncertainly, feeling his presence close behind her; his body close to her, warm…_threatening_, "What is it?"

As a response, she felt something icy cold and very sharp run gently over her shoulder, down her arm and back up again, almost like a caress…and yet it was not. It was hard to believe for Nuala that she had just felt the tip of a knife.

"Perhaps _you _should tell _me_," the prince murmured in her ear, pulling his face back quickly when Nuala turned her head to look into his eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asked nervously, and cried out when he wrapped an arm around her neck, pulling her back against his shoulder with violent force.

"I mean that if you do not tell me the truth I will send us both to our deaths," he hissed, and she closed her eyes with a shudder, holding onto his arm with both hands as if that could somehow anchor them both in place.

"Then you would be killing yourself," Nuala reasoned, trying to sound calm though she could feel her heart beginning to break and fear was taking her over in great waves, "And how long would it be as we fell before you felt regret?"

"Regret means nothing," Nuada shook her, and in so doing his breath caught just as hers did.

Something cold ran slowly down Nuala's neck, and at first she thought it was the knife-edge again until she realised it was a tear. Liquid began to well in her own eyes as she thought of that, and she found she could no longer think badly of his state of mind – it was impossible for her to never forgive. He was suffering, she could feel it; something terrible had happened. Gradually, her grip on his arm became less fearful, her fingers moving in slow soothing patterns over his skin. His whole body was shaking by this time.

"Please, Nuada," the princess whispered, "Explain what is going on. I cannot help you if you will not speak."

"We were sent to ambush the gathering force of humans in the west," he said through clenched teeth, resting his forehead against her left shoulder as his knife clattered to the ground and he put his free arm gently around her waist, moving her back against him far more carefully than before. Still, his hold on her neck did not weaken, betraying his confused emotions better than any amount of sensing his thoughts could. So it was that the feeling of aggression was still prevalent when he spoke again, "But our ambush was itself ambushed; somehow the humans knew we were coming."

"And you suspect me of being the informer because I knew Maeve," Nuala managed to gasp, "And you will kill me if you become convinced I truly am the betrayer," her voice shook, and she sobbed when she tried to pull his arm away and he tightened his hold on her considerably.

"And who else could it be but you…Sister?" the prince demanded.

"Anyone but me," she told him, her hold on his arm once more becoming desperate; she felt her nails break through his skin, and blood trickled past her own right elbow, accompanied by a shockingly sharp pain. When his hold did not lessen, she began to struggle against him, but to no avail, and the forest below seemed almost to beckon as he leaned forward, forcing her to look down upon it.

"I find I cannot believe that, Princess."

"Please," Nuala begged, her tears finally spilling over, "How can you treat me like this? After everything you have done and said and felt. I know that as my heart breaks, so does yours."

"You will forgive me, if we survive this," Nuada promised.

"That may be, but would you truly seek to take advantage of my love for you?"

"Most certainly, if it saves me from ever losing you."

"I do not know why I cannot hate you for this, Brother," the princess told him, as fiercely as she could manage, "But I will tell you the truth because I do so irrecoverably love you and I wish you could feel the same, free of the anger that tears you apart from inside. So I promise to you, Prince Nuada, that had I known the plan which was betrayed to the humans, I would never have given it away, because, although I cannot hate them, they harmed me beyond anything you can comprehend. I can never trust a human man, so I would never seek to purely save their army when they threaten you who I thought I could trust, who I thought would never seek to hurt me.

"How can you trust me so little in return? Do not make me wish I never loved you!" she almost sobbed in relief as, with a groan he weakened his hold on her neck, letting his fingers linger over her throat. The princess leaned back against him, gasping for breath before eventually succeeding to speak again, "And to think that through all of that I found a measure of comfort in your presence, even your touch, however murderous your intentions. Oh why has Nature forsaken us?" she whimpered as both of his arms went around her waist, holding her to him with no lingering sense of menace.

"This is madness," Nuada agreed, his voice nothing more than a feverish whisper, "_Madness_…if only you could understand the agonies I suffer, if only I could understand the pain you will forever remember, the memories which will always haunt you," abruptly he moved away to the side, sitting against the side of the corridor and putting his head in his hands, shuddering, "I need to kill. I need to love. I wish for safety and happiness, and yet I watched the warriors die. Oh, Nuala how could I even suspect you? How could I for one second harbour designs of ending your beautiful life?"

"Please do not cry," the princess gasped in horror, moving quickly from the edge of the archway and carefully pushing the fallen knife to the other end of the corridor before approaching Nuada.

Nuala caught the prince's wrist just as he was about to hit the floor in anger. Slowly she leaned around his raised knee, using his leg for support as she pressed her lips to the palm, and then the back, of his hand. The prince whispered her name then, as if amazed by her very existence, and moved closer, seeking to find solace in the warmth of her lips against his. The princess avoided his attempt to kiss her, instead wiping the tears from his face with her thumbs as he did the same to her, his fingertips drifting over her skin and making her shudder.

"You just sought to kill me," Nuala pointed out, not actually aware of the fact that her hands had taken to unfastening his armour, "Why should I kiss you?"

"Nuala," he whispered her name softly, reverently as the armour fell away from his chest, "I cannot believe…I will not believe I would have done it, though the action in itself is inexcusable. There are no words known to me that can explain the remorse I am beginning to feel, no words to name you by or promise to you that can explain how I truly feel for and love you.

"Let me apologise in the only way in which you can ever believe me – with actions, for words are nothing in this moment. Know then that I am yours, eternally yours, I belong to you. It matters not at all that I am not mine, so long as it is you who owns me. _Let me love you_."

Nuala could hear her own heart pounding in anticipation as she looked up, tilting her head back a little so their lips brushed briefly once before he took her face firmly in his hands and kissed her hard. Neither cared, and certainly did not respond, when the sound of approaching footsteps sounded strongly and stopped with sharp deliberateness nearby.

"My lord," the newcomer said eventually, his voice sounding strained, obviously uncomfortable with the situation he was being forced to witness.

When Nuada finally did look around, he found he could hardly concentrate anyway, the princess leaning as she was against his chest, her hand running through his hair. He found himself fascinated by how delicate she felt, how warm and soft, even by the feel of her breathing, a steady rhythm by this time, nothing like before.

"What is it?" the prince asked of the young warrior standing at the other end of the corridor, eyes carefully averted from the twins.

"Elatha has not returned with us to the palace, my lord," came the hesitant response, "He left us when speculation began of who our betrayer may be. He is the only Elf among those of us living in the Central Forest to have a command of the humans' language – besides Elatha, only the Chamberlain has any knowledge of that tongue."

"Oh no," the prince whispered in horror, and Nuala was quick to take his hand in hers, and she sighed softly when he sent forth his love and the honesty of his feelings – only the truth could take the form of an apology for neither words nor the feeling of remorse were enough after what he had done.

"We thought you would know where to find him, as his closest friend, my lord," the young warrior added eventually, and Nuada nodded in grim agreement.

"Yes…I will seek him out immediately," the prince said, and upon hearing this promise, the messenger was quick to leave, fairly fleeing the corridor.

"Be safe," the princess whispered, a little despairingly, pressing a kiss to Nuada's cheek, "And promise me that you will never seek to hurt me again."

* * *

"Ethlinn! My sister, we must leave at once!"

The healer turned in surprise upon hearing her brother's voice, uncharacteristically frantic, sounding from the trees nearby. She soon saw Elatha standing nervously on the boundary between the palace grounds and the forest, his eyes wild. Not for the first time since their father had been killed she looked at him and felt sorrow over the gladness his heart had lost since that fateful day. Still, in recent times some of his old happiness had returned to him. Seeing him in such fear explained much to Ethlinn; she knew her brother, and she knew that whatever he sought to tell her was both the reason for his happiness and his terror.

"What is it?" the healer asked urgently, approaching Elatha as he retreated deeper into the trees.

"We cannot stay here. For what I have done, however unwittingly, he will surely end my life!" her brother did not slow his pace until the forest was all around them, veiling them from suspicious eyes, and Ethlinn felt a sense of dread settling over her.

"Who? Why?"

"The prince of course! Ethlinn, please, come with me and hear me out. I have much to explain, much to admit…and I hope you will understand, for you are the only family I have left whom I feel I can trust," his words were rushed and jumbled, and Ethlinn listened to him in utter horror.

"What have you done to anger the prince?" the healer demanded nervously, and then her eyes widened, "No! Not the…"

"Sister, make no assumptions!" Elatha cried quickly, "For they will all be wrong, I promise you."

"Then at least tell me where we are going!" Ethlinn exclaimed in confusion, for they were veering to the southwest and the smell of smoke was thick in the air. She knew undoubtedly that they were nearing a human settlement, "Elatha! You are frightening me with your haste and your talk of death!"

Despite his sister's continuing pleas for an explanation, Elatha simply continued onwards in silence, suddenly very purposeful. He knew his destination well; a place along the border with the forest and the valley not far from where he and Nuada had watched those they knew killed so mercilessly. Here the final line of trees curved inwards, shielding the border from the view of the human settlement, and it was here that Elatha had been spending his evenings, nights and mornings.

As the trees thinned, a quiet voice sounded from nearby, and Ethlinn froze, her whole body going rigid with shock. She did not at first realise that such a voice had just spoken her brother's name; a voice that was lacking the gentle, flowing pronunciation of the Elves.

"Human!" she gasped in disgust, seeing a slight figure visible beyond the trees and watching as a human woman, tanned by long hours in the sun, with large blue eyes and flowing hair the colour of straw stepped into view. Her dress was dull green, shapeless but for a tattered string belt.

Elatha watched his sister's response in dismay, but smiled gently at the young woman before him, and her expression lit up at the sight of him. Still, he could not escape the fact that this creature he loved so dearly had inadvertently caused the deaths of so many of his friends. He had spoken with her as soon as he had escaped the warriors, and learned that she had relayed the information of the Elvish plan to her people only with the intention of drawing back for a time and rendering it useless. But the humans had been determined to spill Elvish blood, just as Nuada had been so set on doing the same to them.

"_This is my sister,_" he told the woman eventually, "_Her name is Ethlinn. I have brought her with me, as I promised._" In response, the young human turned her gaze to the healer as Elatha spoke again, "Ethlinn, this is Siobhan, my…bride."

"A human? You love a human?" the healer whispered, stepping back into the trees as if afraid she might somehow lose her life by simply meeting the woman.

"Yes, and this is the reason why I must leave, and I had hoped you would come with me," Elatha said unhappily, drawing closer to Siobhan as his sister's glare fixed on her, "What I told her has inadvertently caused the deaths of my fellow warriors, and I fear the prince will soon learn this. I must escape here before it is too late. The other humans have promised us refuge for a time, until we can move on."

"Then you have betrayed your people for the sake of love," Ethlinn shook her head in disgust, "Our people are dying even as we speak; to the south the Elvish army and the army of _her _people are meeting to end the human threat once and for all…and you seek to love a human? No, Elatha, how can I go with you? The only way I can repay you, betrayer that you are, is to turn my back on you as surely as you have done to our king. Let the prince have you, I say…"

"And so he shall, healer," a fourth voice cut in, low and menacing, accompanied by the slow swish of a familiar spear slicing ominously through the air.

Siobhan gasped in sudden fear, looking beyond Ethlinn to see the speaker, the silver head of his spear glinting brilliantly in the sunlight, the gold symbol of a tree rooted to the inside of a circle gleaming just as obviously on his stomach. She knew that picture for what it was – the royal seal of the Elves, and so knew that she was in the presence of one of the royalty of those magical people. As she met his orange-red gaze real fear, such as she had never known before, began to stir within her.

"Siobhan," Elatha murmured nervously, pushing the woman behind himself as Ethlinn moved to the side, leaving a direct line between the two warriors, "_You must not try to come between us. He will cut you down._"

"You love her," the prince noted thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side and watching the human woman dispassionately for a moment before a grim smile came to his face. He twirled his spear quickly through the air once again, creating an intricate pattern around himself, and saw her eyes go wide with shock, not able to keep up with the speed or precision of his movements.

"Yes," Elatha nodded in response to Nuada's observation, "And the fact that you stand here before me, so ready to end my life for a foolish mistake I made, proves that such an emotion has stayed your hand today."

"That will make little difference to you, Elatha, friend though you once were," without warning, he lunged at the golden haired warrior, who barely had time to dodge, rolling quickly out of the way and unsheathing his sword as he did so. Nearby, Siobhan gasped and Ethlinn retreated from sight into the forest.

"No! Nuada!" a new voice called as the prince stood straight again, and he paused, all of the anger and resolution visible in his expression simply ebbing away. As Nuada turned towards the trees, Elatha took the opportunity to scramble back, taking Siobhan by the arm and pulling her with him as the princess came into view.

"_She is beautiful_," Siobhan gasped reflexively as Nuala stepped into the light, the golden seal of royalty also visible on her shimmering dress of white and blue.

"Do not do this," the princess begged, approaching her brother somewhat nervously as he turned once more to Elatha, only to frown when Nuala took his shoulder and pulled him back around to face her. Instantly the spear was lowered, sliding back to the length of a sword.

"He deserves nothing better, Nuala."

"No. Such a fate is deserved by no one, human or Elf," she corrected, and then the princess turned her gaze towards Elatha, and she gestured quickly in the direction of the human settlement, "Go, now," she told him urgently, "You may not have another chance."

Obediently, the golden haired warrior turned and, pulling Siobhan with him, headed along the line of the trees and was soon out of sight. As soon as Elatha was gone along with his human bride, the prince turned to glare at his sister, and she did step back, momentarily afraid. However, Nuada was quick to sheath his weapon, and promptly took her into his arms. For a moment she did not know whether she should resist him; her emotions were confused as she looked up at him.

"The king forbade you to leave the palace," he reminded her as sharply as he could manage.

"He also forbade you to come near me. Did you listen to him any more than I did?" Nuala pointed out, and that the prince could not argue with, and when he looked down, taking deep, shuddering breaths to try and calm himself, the princess smiled and touched his face lightly, "You do not always have to be the one who must decide the fates of those who you – perceive – to have broken King Balor's rules." Her words were greeted only with silence, but somehow the princess knew he was listening to her.

"How did you get out of the palace?" Nuada asked eventually.

"I ran," she admitted with a smile, "No one saw me."

When the prince laughed briefly at this, the quiet sound, so very rare as it was, amazed Nuala, and she moved closer in his arms, pulling him down to her level and kissing him gently.

"You should be more willing to feel happiness," she told him, and he sighed, looking away until she leaned around him, pressing her lips to his once again until he groaned softly and drew her closer still.

"How can you forgive me so utterly?" he whispered in awe, "How can you treat me this way after everything I have done to you?"

"Because you gave me your thoughts," Nuala reminded him, "And I saw everything, and felt everything. You could never have hurt me…but I hurt you," she added, finding the four cuts on the inside of his right forearm, where his leather bracer was laced and so therefore left him vulnerable.

"I think I deserved that," he told her quietly, and when she shook her head the reverence evident in his expression only increased, and he sought to kiss her for a third time, "I wish I could hide in you forever, feel the goodness of your heart and let it wash away all the anger I feel. You are the only who can save me from this madness…hold me back; save my life," the prince whispered desperately.

"I will love you as well as I can," the princess said after a moment, "And perhaps that will be enough; the trees remember no love to rival what I feel for you and I know you feel for me…" she paused there, looking nervous again.

"The promise," Nuada smiled, "I promised I would finish what we…started…when I return. Let me keep that…let me finally _show _you what it is I truly feel," with these words, they kissed again so gently, lingering this time…

"Princess!" Ethlinn's voice rang out with painful clarity, but Nuala found she could hardly bring herself to answer the healer, let alone turn away from the prince.

"Yes?"

"The king is looking for you both at the palace. He will soon grow suspicious if you continue to 'evade' him. You are actively breaking a law he has set down for you!" Ethlinn's frustration did little to affect Nuala, whose attention had returned to the one before her.

"So once again we are denied," she sighed softly, "You are the only one I ever feel safe with, the only one I could ever trust or love enough to come closer to me. Yet he denies us. I will still be eternally yours, regardless of titles. I know that he will never stop; that he believes it is wrong that we love…but I know too, that he can never break this love, even if we are subject to his endeavours for a thousand years," she vowed.

Ethlinn cringed as the two kissed again, wondering how they could do such a thing after what the king had told them – and what he had decreed. It was as if they believed time had stopped around them, as if the imminent threat of the king's wrath was nothing compared to a few moments in each other's arms. Despite her disapproval of the situation, the healer could not help but notice that only then did the prince seem at peace; no anger and none of his increasingly characteristic viciousness showed in his countenance. The princess, too, was altered by the brief instant of tenderness, for she was somehow visibly happy, though her face was not visible to Ethlinn.

"You should go," Nuada told his sister eventually, pushing her back gently.

"And what about you?"

"I am not the one who has been forbidden to leave the palace, Nuala," he reminded her sadly, "And besides, if the king is looking for us both I must return soon, anyway. Unfortunately, it would not do for us to arrive in his presence together."

The princess paused a moment before looking around at Ethlinn, sighing perhaps because she had to leave or simply because the warrior's touch had left her shoulders. Either way, she did eventually approach the healer, who was quick to turn back towards the trees. Nuala hung back before eventually following, her expression thoughtful, watching Ethlinn set a swift pace for the palace.

"You did a very cruel thing, healer," the princess said eventually once she had reached her companion's side.

"Did I? Was I the one who promised Elatha death?"

"In a way, yes you were," Nuala was quick to correct, "You betrayed him because he loves someone."

"How could you know anything of what happened? You arrived only in time to stop _your _brother from killing _mine_," Ethlinn pointed out.

"Something which you condoned," the princess reminded before answering the question, "And the trees told me. You renounced your brother because he found love – and his love is not the first of its kind. He did not intentionally cause harm to his kin, and nor did she. He is your _brother_; your family! How could you so coldly wish for the prince to seek his death?"

"I hope you will forgive my impertinence, princess," Ethlinn said after an awkward moment of silence, in which the healer desperately tried to hold back what she was about to say, "But I have seen no evidence that you adhere to normal family protocol. Have you not heard what the other Elves whisper about you? I would sooner kill _my _brother myself than…than…"

"Than do what?" Nuala demanded, stopping suddenly and taking the healer by the shoulder to spin her around, only to gasp and draw her hand away just as hastily, stumbling backwards before speaking, her expression one of utter horror; she had heard Ethlinn's thoughts, "How could you? How could _he_? Why would my father think those things, how could you go along with that? Did you think the prince would agree to go near you? Oh, but your thoughts! Your _thoughts,_" here it was the healer's turn to back up, thinking for a second that the princess meant to strike her.

"I-it never came to anything…how could it?" Ethlinn stammered.

"The king had a hand in it, you need not deny it…my own father sought to break my heart for the sake of a foolish prophecy. Must you all betray me? Every single one of you?" she brought a hand to her own neck then, "The king seeks to ruin me, to ruin my brother, too. My brother seeks to kill me, so desperate to end something, however insane, and you…you sought to seduce the one I love beyond all others."

"I…"

"You will never come near me again, Ethlinn. I told you once that I would be forever grateful to you for saving my life, but how can I be after everything that has befallen, everything you have caused? You should have left with your brother when you had the chance," the princess paused then, as if not sure why she was feeling such strong emotions, or knowing that what she was about to say was wrong but she simply could not stop it, "If he wanted death to a true betrayer, Nuada should have turned on you…and Ethlinn, I wonder if, knowing what I know now, I could have the heart to stop him."

With these words, Princess Nuala turned and vanished into the trees, trying to escape the troubles she found herself so very deeply a part of, but with no idea of how many more horrors she would soon be witnessing.

* * *

The throne room was silent; the attention of all the advisors in the stands was trained solely on the king. Balor himself sat upon his throne, his chin resting in his hand, staring pensively at the golden crown in the open, jewelled box standing before him. The stand upon which this container rested had – literally – become restless, the brass feet on the ends of its four long metal legs shifting uncomfortably over the dusty ground.

It had been some time since the arrival of the crown and the quick departure of its lone Goblin courier. Not long after this, the twins had been sent for, and it was fortunate for them that their father had not noticed just how much time had passed since then. His thoughts were very much taken up with considering the true implications of the use of that crown. Even then, before anything had begun, he could envisage the destruction the army would bring upon not only a whole species, but also the land. Neither of these consequences felt right to him – he was, after all, the king of the Elves, the most powerful species of all the magical creatures and therefore the protectors of the Hidden Realm.

"They must be stopped," Balor sighed eventually, speaking to no one in particular, and the crown's stand leapt in surprise, one of its legs jerking outwards at an awkward angle before eventually recovering itself. The king simply shook his head in disbelief at the strange Goblin contraption before speaking again, "So I suppose we have no choice. The humans will kill us all eventually if we do not take action…"

"Father?" Nuala's voice rang clear with confusion and worry, interrupting the king's musings as she stepped into the open gateway of the throne room. Her eyes instantly focused on the box standing at the centre of the hall, to the strange animated table it rested upon, and she recognised whatever her father was staring intently upon was the work of Goblins. It took her a moment to realise that a crown, intricate, pure gold and somehow ominous, glimmered in the box. This did nothing to explain the strange situation to the princess, so she looked questioningly to her father, but he refused to meet her eyes.

"You know nothing of this, do you my daughter?" the king said at length, "Your brother did at least have the heart to spare you the truth of why I sent him away so soon after you both returned so…injured. And you never had the heart to ask him, did you? It would be plain for any creature in your situation to realise that something was very wrong, but you never asked."

"I do not understand…what more do you have to keep from me?" the princess could not hide a hint of sadness – an emotion that bordered on bitterness – sounding in her voice then.

"I wish I did not have to tell you these things at all, Nuala," Balor groaned, shaking his head miserably, taking a deep, shuddering breath before continuing, "They only ever serve to distress you, innocent soul that you are. More than that, I find myself wondering whether you would love us so dearly if you knew what we have sought – and will seek, I fear – to unleash upon this world? You, the best of us all; it goes against the very principles of your nature."

"You cannot go back now, Father. She must know, but you need not vilify us so ardently. We have done nothing but what is necessary in this war," Nuada cut in, and the princess could not suppress a gasp at the sound of his voice so close by. As he moved past her in the gateway, he was careful to brush closely against her, his hand resting briefly and unnoticeably against the small of her back, his hair tickling her neck.

Nuala remained as one frozen, staring stoically at the ground, in that brief moment that felt like an agonising lifetime, able to imagine the feel of his lips moving over her skin…The contact he had made seemed to send a shockwave up her spine, and it was everything she could do simply to remain still, holding her breath, silently begging that he would move away and stop tormenting her in such a manner in front of her father of all people. It was only then that she realised _why _the prince was doing this: he was using her against Balor to try and prove a point.

"Then perhaps you should be the one to tell your sister about the Golden Army you look so favourably upon, Nuada," King Balor retaliated as the prince did finally move into the throne room, away from the gateway and Nuala.

"Perhaps I should," the prince shrugged, unconcerned, though his sister was regarding him with shock, the word _army _ringing so violently in her mind that he could sense it, too, "But then again, Father, I believe it is your duty."

"What are you speaking about?" the princess demanded suddenly, her attempt to stay calm under the weight of the suggestion of such a horrible truth failing somewhat. The prince simply frowned in response, looking to their father.

"The war rages on even as we speak," the king began unwillingly, "You know this, but you have been isolated from it until now. For the humans are greater in number than we ever could have imagined before, and they are advancing slowly upon this place, our home, the Central Forest.

"The recklessness of humanity has disturbed the lives of many other creatures within the Magical Realm, and so it was that the Goblins proposed to build an army of seventy times seventy soldiers; golden constructs, in fact, that will feel no hunger and no thirst, that cannot be stopped and will never tire."

"The deaths of thousands," Nuala gasped in horror, and the prince turned his gaze angrily upon her then, but she spoke to him before he could say a word, "And you championed this, did you not? The king sent you to find out more, and you heard of the potential destruction not with disgust but with gladness! I can hear the very words in your mind now." _Build me this army. _As soon as those words sounded in her thoughts, the princess began to realise how much stronger the link between them had become; they were beginning to recognise each other's thoughts.

"And the deaths of many more will occur if the human race is not stopped once and for all," he told her fiercely, the coldness in his voice enough to make even the king cringe, "Your misplaced pity is beyond tiresome, _Sister_." His sudden aggression, along with his choice of wording, not only startled, but frightened the princess, too. Suddenly, she could remember his arm tight around her throat, his threat to kill them both…

"Enough, Nuada!" the king cried, seeing tears beginning to well in the princess's eyes, "Is it any wonder that I chose to keep you away from here? You and your cruel words and crueller heart!"

"What more have you to say?" Nuala asked eventually, her voice shaking with grief at the news she had been given, tears falling freely over her cheeks.

"This crown is the means by which I, as one of royal blood, may command the army. Any who challenges me at my coronation tomorrow must also not only be of royalty, but will be challenging me in battle," Balor warned, "Know then that there is no way by which you can contest this decision, my daughter, though I see in your eyes you will dearly wish to."

"And that is all? You are willing to kill and kill until all are dead and the world is weary of all life?" Nuala demanded, steadfastly refusing to look towards the prince, and so instead saw her father's expression of resolve waver.

"I will do what I must, Nuala," came the quiet response.

"Then know, father, that you will be dooming us all to ruin," she looked to Nuada then, regarding him unwillingly with a fondness that gripped her heart and sought to tear it in two with the bitter realisation of her own hypocrisy – she adored his very being, though she also knew the truth of her next words, "By listening to the machinations of the cruellest of all hearts." _This is your second betrayal, Nuada, and your most unforgivable. I fear I can never forgive you for these things, and I surely shall never try._

The weight of the princess's thoughts did indeed reach the warrior's mind, and he staggered back with the agony she gave him with both her spoken and unspoken words. When he could think clearly again, Nuada saw that his dear sister had already gone, and his father was once again leaning his head in his hands, utterly despairing of his children.


	11. An End to All Pain?

**An End To All Pain?**

Princess Nuala stared blankly out at the hopeful faces of the red robed council members, all leaning forward over the wooden railings of the stands that flanked the throne room to get a better view of the event. Such eagerness and enthusiasm looked ridiculous not only in regards to the situation, but also because those Elvish men and women were always so carefully emotionless. Nuala found herself wishing those misguided advisors could see just how much damage this army, by this time fully assembled and waiting just to the north of the forest, was about to do.

More frightening to the princess even than the zeal of the advisors was the fierce gleam in her brother's eyes as he stood to his father's right, watching the Chamberlain carrying the crown down the hall towards the king. The prince had not said a word to Nuala, hardly even looked at her, since she had run from the throne room in anguish the day before. When his eyes had met hers in the few moments before the coronation had been fully prepared, she had been able to see the yearning in his expression clearly, but also the frustration and the disappointment. It began to occur to Nuala that this gulf in their opinions, and not their father's disapproval, would be the thing to pull them apart. Unlike her brother, she had never heard the prophecies the Angel had given, and so could not comprehend the significance of the idea.

King Balor himself sat very still upon his throne, his expression one of grim resolution and resignation. He had witnessed the Golden Army for himself upon their arrival on the forest's border, from the Furnace Caves. The sight of such a horde had horrified him beyond anything he had ever known, but the promise of commanding them gave him a feeling of power which easily overrode his misgivings. To see the royal seal, the royal seal of _his _kingdom, embossed on every golden leviathan shoulder filled him with a strange sense of pride. He alone owned the hope of the continuing dominance of his people.

Around the hall, as ever, stood the king's guards, but it was only in that moment, as the Chamberlain approached the throne, that Nuala spared a moment to look at those loyal servants. They were in fact not Elves at all, but Chimera, creatures of only partial Elvish descent, brought into the service of guarding Balor while the others were out fighting. The other side of their ancestry was unknown, but they were truly strange beings, with greyish skin and long, curved structures – like a giant bird's beak – in the stead of faces. They had no visible eyes in this outer skull of bark-like bone, nor did there seem any place for a mouth.

The princess could not pretend to herself that the Chimera did not unnerve her; they were as frightening to her in their uniform apparent indifference as the more familiar Elvish guards. Every one of the Chimera was dressed in heavy black leather armour and each carried a pair of vicious blunt-ended swords on their belts. They stood to rigid attention, utterly unmoving, their hands hovering close to their sword hilts, long jet-black hair pulled back into tight ponytails.

Despite all of her fears regarding the warriors, Nuala could not help but empathise with the Chimera as the Chamberlain slowly unlocked the metal box holding the crown, his every movement appearing exaggerated and impossibly drawn out to her unwilling eyes. The princess found herself feeling very much like those guards; her thoughts on the matter of the coronation and the army were not wanted and were ignored – nothing she said could alter what was about to happen. She certainly could not challenge the king, though she had the right, for such a decision would mean battle…and that she certainly could not do.

As if the very air around her were the bars of a prison cell, Princess Nuala stood to her father's left, bound to watch and doomed to stay silent. Her lungs seemed to take in no air and she found herself fairly gasping for breath as the unostentatious and yet intricate crown was revealed. A collective gasp went up in the hall, as if the advisors had not seen the ominously beautiful object before.

Nuala's hands, clasped in front of her, began to tremble when the prince stepped forward, taking the crown in his hands and turning towards their father. No one could have seemed more at odds with her in that moment than her brother; no one could ever seem so distant, so incomprehensible.

As he stepped towards the king, the prince looked Nuala's way, and the glance was only fleeting, but in those flame like eyes she saw nothing but doom for their world. So it was that the princess found she had to look away from her brother, unable to meet a gaze that brought on such mixed feelings within her. Still, she watched as Prince Nuada placed the crown upon King Balor's head and a piece of the ancient sadness visible in the latter's eyes was replaced by hope. Nuala felt, however, that his misery had not been lost, but simply passed on to her. The pain of her sadness overcame her, and she took a step back, tears filling her eyes when her brother looked towards her angrily this time.

Slowly, Balor stood, and absolute silence fell in the throne room. As they had with the arrival of the crown, every being stood utterly still, varying expressions of awe and amazement visible on their pale faces. It was true that, for the first time since the death of his queen, King Balor stood straight again, his very presence commanding absolute respect and speaking of royalty.

"I am King Balor, ruler of the magical realm of Bethmora, leader of the Golden Army," he proclaimed, his voice resounding strongly in the hall, "Are there any here who would challenge my right?"

The king's words were answered with silence, something which gradually seemed to grow into its own sound, freezing that moment as one long still in Nuala's memory. Then the stillness was broken as a low rumbling invaded the silent hall, and the ground shook. Balor remained untouched by the sound, knowing full well what it meant, while the advisors looked to each other with more than a little fear evident in their eyes.

Meanwhile, by his father's side Nuada stood with fierce light in his eyes, a look that could so easily be perceived as madness; a look that filled his sister with dread. A grim smile showed on his face, his hand reflexively reached for the hilt of his sword – which was not there, of course, for no weapons were permitted in the throne room. Nuala could not suppress a sob at this sight, wishing her brother's mind could be on anything other than war, death and pain.

Revenge had spurred the prince on, revenge against the humans, who had attacked the princess. That knowledge made her feel guilty, and Nuala felt the first of her tears fall onto her cheek. She looked down at the dusty ground, imagining the movement of the mighty golden constructs she had never seen and somehow knowing that without the slaughter at the human settlement none of this would ever have happened. The princess jumped then, feeling Nuada's touch running across her cheek as if he were right there beside her. For a moment all her thoughts spun, and even the Golden Army seemed insignificant.

"They have awakened," the prince pronounced softly, and yet somehow those words once more silenced the advisors and they stared at _him_ this time, though he did not return the look, instead choosing to turn his gaze towards the princess. He could see the confusion as clearly in her eyes as he could sense it, and could not hide a slight smile as he found he could continue the illusion of touching her cheek…He was so lost in the very idea of this that Balor's next words succeeded in startling him rather violently.

"I believe it is time to meet this army of ours," the king smiled, stepping down from his throne's stand, "I bid you all come with me to meet the bringers of new hope to Bethmora." A cheer went up at these words as the advisors filtered out of the room, leaving only the guards and the Elvish royalty in the hall.

"Father," Nuala began, but Balor shook his head, raising a hand for silence and turning to look over his shoulder at his son.

"Nuada, you should go to see this army of yours," the king said significantly, and still the prince paused, feeling his sister's distress, "Nuada!" Balor said a little more sharply, and his son frowned before eventually turning sharply on his heel and stalking from the room.

"Father, please, do not force me to witness these death bringers," the princess pleaded, "And if you will not then let me go, my place is no longer by your side if you have fallen so low as to kill as freely as the humans do."

"You think I would let you go, Nuala?" Balor sighed, "I am not so unselfish, and you are not so disloyal. You will stay with me in my court. You are the last…sane one among us, I fear, and I cannot lose you now. I left the mighty underground splendour of the city of Bethmora when your mother died, when I felt I could not cope with the memories. I cannot lose you, too, you who remind me so much of her," he turned away then, shaking his head, "No. You will come with me, where I can see you, where I know the prince cannot touch you, and you will look upon your _saviours_: the Golden Army."

With this, King Balor took his daughter by the arm, fairly pulling her along with him from the hall, and then heading north through the palace until they were once more in the simple shelter of the trees. Not far from here were gathered the advisors, the prince nearby, and all of them were staring fixedly ahead, down a steep decline in the ground and over the flat land beyond.

As if drawn by a kind of morbid curiosity she had known nothing of before, Nuala stepped forward, too, subconsciously by the side of the prince. The sight laid out before her was like nothing she could ever have imagined, like nothing she would ever wish to see again. Row upon row of terrible golden giants, each stamped with the seal of Elvish royalty, stared blankly back at her, filling the fields of flowers, darkening the world around them, taking the shine from the waters of the sea itself, once glittering so splendidly to the east. A red glow emanated from every construct's chest, filling their empty heads and glowing vividly from their eyes as one by one they moved to stand to rigid attention, hundreds of tiny cogs and links working within them to move joints and lift metal plates.

The king had stepped up before the Golden Army, the rain misted wind sweeping his long hair and white cloak to flutter out behind him, the new crown gleaming almost impossibly in the autumn light. He was utterly fixated on the army ahead of him, and so he did not see the prince take the princess's hand in his, the twins moving closer together, seeking comfort from each other faced with such a scene. For even Prince Nuada felt dread at the sight of such a horde, and besides he would not allow his sister to feel such fear and sadness without his comfort.

"I am King Balor," their father proclaimed once more, his voice somehow ringing over the land with force enough for the whole army to hear, "And I am the wearer of the Golden Crown. We are at war with the humans; I hereby command you to destroy the western settlement of theirs nearest to the forest, and from there to destroy their armies."

No answer was given to this command save once more for the rumbling of the ground, the whirring of cogs and wheels as the army turned as one and began to march towards the human settlement. Nuala and Nuada both watched the Golden Army go, but with thoughts directly in opposition with each other. For the princess feared for the life of Elatha and his bride, who were seeking shelter in the human settlement doomed for destruction, while the prince hoped for the deaths of those very same lovers.

Once the order to the army was given, King Balor turned away from the constructs, towards the forest. He could not bring himself to look at his daughter, knowing the pain he had caused her, and so he never saw that the twins were together. He simply sighed wearily and headed once more for the palace, his advisors in tow, inadvertently leaving his children alone together.

"Nuala," the prince spoke her name with unmatched reverence, his voice somehow reaching deep into her mind and filling every one of her thoughts with the knowledge that he was by her side, his skin touching hers.

"Do you truly find my pity tiresome?" the princess asked quickly before her brother could continue, knowing that if he did she would never be able to bring up the subject again. After all, she had hurt him with words as badly as he had done to her.

"No," his arms were around her by this time, and she could feel his lips moving against her jaw as he whispered the word into her ear, "I spoke in anger. But…is it true that you believe I have the cruellest of hearts?"

"I do not know," Nuala answered honestly, finally looking away from the ruined fields to meet the prince's eyes, "I hope not. I hope you can prove me wrong," despite those words, anger flared in his expression, and he pushed her back harshly so that she stumbled and almost fell.

"I have done nothing to make you think of me that way!" he cried furiously, "Nothing! The decision to build this army was taken by both our father and me, not me alone. Yet you, you of all people most beloved of mine in this world, seek to vilify me! I swear, Nuala, that if there is ever a day when you do break my heart, I will make absolutely sure yours breaks as well."

"Your words give me no comfort," the princess said softly, wrapping her arms around herself uncomfortably as her brother's glare continued to blaze into her and the rain truly began to fall, "But they make me fear I was right. I wish I could hold you back, Brother, I wish I could save your life. I wish I could truly forgive you for the things you have done to me and the horrors you have set in motion."

"I..."

"No, please listen," Nuala sighed, approaching the prince slowly at first, nervously, and then more swiftly, putting a finger against his lips for silence and finding herself pressed closely against him, his hands on her waist, his eyes somehow still blazing with ferocity though his touch suggested something altogether different, "You must try to help yourself as much as I try to help you. Hold yourself back – you have control enough to burn me with your glance and at once seduce me with your touch. I trust there will be no more death threats from you," she whispered, reaching up and putting a hand over his eyes, "You do not have to burn with anger. There are other emotions just as powerful and far less destructive. Because, Nuada…when I told you I was not afraid of you, I meant every word, but now I could not say such a thing and speak the truth. For I do fear you…more than just a little, I think…and yet I feel I could not live without you," with these words she pulled him down towards her, still shielding his eyes.

"Please, you must forgive me," he murmured, and his voice was torn with the pain of everything she had said to him, "Do not fear me."

"Then finish what you started," Nuala bade him gently, stepping away quickly before he could kiss her, "Finally fulfil the promise you made. Let nothing stop you this time, for every time we have been halted and I can bear it no longer."

Without a word the prince took her hand once more in his, returning to the relative shelter of the forest and making his way towards the palace. Instead of entering this place however, he took Nuala around it. To them both it felt an eternity before they had reached the appropriate area of the palace, the place where none would dare seek them out: the prince's chambers in the western side of the structure. Upon silent feet they entered, reaching the door without being seen – something which seemed a rarity for them in their own home by that time.

"What is it?" Nuada asked softly, closing and bolting the portal behind himself and seeing his sister standing in the middle of the room, her expression somewhat forlorn.

"You chose to go and fight," she mumbled, "You chose to go and fight rather than…stay with me. I know so much has happened to stop…this, but you actively chose to go to the war. Can you prove my words wrong?"

"They are not comparable, Nuala," the prince told her calmly, approaching and putting his hands on her shoulders. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his arm, so he pulled her closer, holding her to him in a gentle embrace.

"_Are _they not comparable for you?" Nuala whispered tentatively, "I can sense your emotions with every kill you make, and never once have you had any feelings of guilt, shame, remorse, or even pity. It scares me, Nuada. I love you too much to ignore how your treatment of life is becoming increasingly callous."

"How can you even begin to think that death…and the taking of lives…is more important to me than you?" Nuada growled, and it was with confusion that the princess found she _enjoyed _the feeling that sound created between them, shuddering through them both, "If the king had not…found us I think none of this would have happened. Do not misinterpret my feelings towards you, Nuala," the prince whispered, "I love you more than any thing and any being," his hands were shaking as they moved to her back, seeking the fastens of her dress as he backed her into the wall.

"Then show me. Prove it to me," the princess told him, only to gasp when Nuada's impatience got the better of him and with one sudden, vicious jerk, cloth and lacing tore free, fluttering slowly to the ground, almost unnoticed as the Elves kissed.

His lips were so warm and urgent against hers, his touch so gentle on her skin, that it seemed impossible for this to be wrong. If this were not meant to happen, wouldn't she have the strength to resist? In the past it had not been uncommon for very closely related members of the royal family to be betrothed – siblings, even, to keep the bloodline pure. Yet never like this. Not _twins._

Yet Nuala found it impossible to think of him as a brother. Not in every sense. They had been kept apart for all their lives previous to this, and now come together with shocking force. She loved him, and she felt insane for it, but she truly loved him, and could not wholly see what was wrong with it.

But the king had decreed that they spend no time alone, and yet there they were, locked away in the prince's chamber by her suggestion…finally…

"No, we mustn't!" Nuala managed to gasp, stepping back out of his reach.

The prince looked at her darkly for a long moment, his golden eyes locked fiercely with hers.

"Is that what you truly wish?" he asked, and as ever his voice alone had power enough to make her body go weak.

Still, fighting her instinctive reactions, Nuala took a step towards the door. Even so, her eyes were still staring almost desperately and definitely longingly into his. When Nuala took another step forward, the prince took action of his own.

Before she could move again, he took hold of her and pushed her back against the wall. She tried to step around him – a movement that felt more like an excuse to go closer to him than anything else – but he took her shoulder and slammed her back harder.

"No," the princess murmured half-heartedly as his hand gently circled her throat, and she attempted to turn her face away. That action was stopped more by her own reactions than his hold on her, and he leaned closer anyway, kissing the side of her neck, by the curve of her jaw, lightly once. She needed to kiss him, more than anything…

His lips found hers again, and this time the princess did not have the will to pull away. She could feel herself beginning to relax against him as the kiss slowed, and when he did move back a little, she leaned closer and he smiled in triumph. Soon, it felt like all that was holding her up were her arms around his neck and his body pressing hers against the wall.

"Do you say 'no' to me now?" the prince asked softly, and Nuala shook her head, pulling him back to her slowly, savouring every forbidden second as they kissed again.

Nuala was not truly aware of the moment when her dress slipped from her shoulders, all of its lacing utterly broken, rustling quietly downwards to lie in a silken heap upon the ground. She was, however, very much aware of the prince's touch seeking over her skin, and her own hands were shaking as she sought to unfasten the red sash around his waist. For a moment the knot caught and she inadvertently pulled him to her. Suddenly feeling inexplicably nervous, she looked up to meet his eyes and her breath stopped when she saw the emotions blazing there.

"You are afraid," Nuada noted softly.

"You made me so."

"Then let me take it away."

Very slowly, as if only then realising that they had eternity, his fingers lightly circled her wrists, steadying her hands so that she could slide the knot free, unravelling the sash easily. He watched her eyes for every second of this, and slowly the fear she felt ebbed away, just as he had promised. For a brief moment the princess could forget all of her grievances and sadness; she had no thoughts of the Golden Army or death at all.

Quickly the prince turned away to pull his tunic free, and soon the garment joined Nuala's dress at their feet. When Nuada looked back around, the princess's gaze fell to his scars, and she consequently remembered hers, something which made her look away self consciously until he caught her in his arms, cradling her against him with an arm around her waist and his other hand tangled in her hair.

"What is it?" he asked of her, his lips brushing hers gently with every word.

"The scars…my scars I mean…they do not mar…I am not…you do not think…"

"I think that you are beautiful," the prince promised, kissing her more obviously, more deliberately, then unashamedly taking in her appearance, his eyes blazing, "No creature is as beautiful as you. I cannot take away those scars, for I gave them to you…I cannot take away the pain of anything that has befallen you…but I can _love_ you, I _will_ love you. Have no more fears, think not at all but of me, or not at all of anything if you must; just…feel."

When next they kissed, Nuada lifted her from the ground, spinning them both around and stepping across the room before gently lowering her onto the bed. The princess could not suppress a gasp when he joined her, settling over her and pressing his left palm to her right as he did so. For a long time they remained utterly speechless, Nuala unable to think of anything beyond _him_ and the way he moved against her, within her, and the emotions and feelings he created. Not only that, but she could feel everything he could through the link he had made by pressing his hand to hers.

The world became inconsequential because _he_ had become everything, to the point where his hair caressing her skin felt somehow as beautiful as any gentle touch and yet somehow so much more intimate. His body was shuddering against hers, his breathing coming in fast gasps…and he did not look at her, his face obscured by those same shimmering strands of white and gold.

"Nuada," the princess whispered eventually, her voice catching, and she touched a finger to his chin, tipping his head back so he had to look into her eyes. She had not expected to see tears glistening on his cheeks, and could never have imagined the gentle smile that showed on his face when he looked at her. Amazed, Nuala touched her free hand to his face and he turned towards that contact, a wordless sound of love, passion and increasing ecstasy escaping them both.

"Please," he gasped, "This is…this is so much more…I cannot…explain…"

"Then your tears are good?" the princess smiled, though she already knew the answer.

"Of course. I _adore _you and you are…" here he gave up with words, kissing her deeply instead, and drawing back too soon to try and regain his breath, "Then let this be my apology, my gift to you…let the world just spin away." And she surely did.

* * *

The sun shone with unmatched radiance in the sky that day to Nuala's eyes as she lay there, watching the brilliant rays streaming through the window space to shimmer on the prince's hair. He was staring at the ceiling, trying to calm his breathing as she did hers. Something was troubling him, the princess could feel it as she kissed away his tears, so she pressed her lips to his and felt his heart race, even as his thoughts calmed.

"You were right," she whispered against him, "This _is _right. Nothing ever felt so right or good to me. And I know what you meant when you spoke of hiding inside of me," she added softly, feeling him smile.

"That I could do for eternity," he admitted, gathering her closer against him and sighing regretfully.

"What is it?"

"I have to go," Nuada groaned unwillingly.

"No! Not again, please."

"I will return soon," he promised quickly, kissing her again before she could respond, "But there is something I must…oversee first, before it is too late," the prince told her, letting go and sitting up, only to turn back around and lean closer again, drifting a hand over her cheek, "And _rest_, for you had no sleep last night, I know it, and perhaps will have none in this night to come, though I hope that shall be for…better reasons."

With that he stood, swiftly dressing, and Nuala closed her eyes with a sigh, knowing she could not stop him. When she opened them again, he was gone, the door remaining firmly bolted from within. She smiled at the memory of the last time he – they – had left a room through its window space, and the happy expression faded as she thought of all the horrors that had followed that joyous moment.

Meanwhile, Prince Nuada hurried through the trees with grim purpose, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword-spear with unconscious force. He did not like what he sought to 'oversee', but he also felt it was his duty to see it done. For he sought the death of Elatha; a traitor to Elfland but also the prince's oldest friend.

The ground continued to rumble ominously, a sound that grew louder and louder the further Nuada came to the western human settlement bordering the forest. This told him that the Golden Army were at least still carrying out the first stage of their orders, so perhaps he would be in time to witness the last moments of destruction.

Eventually the line of trees fell away to reveal the familiar valley and the settlement of wood beyond. Only this time the roundhouses were aflame, dark smoke rising up into the air, thicker than it ever was from their crude chimneys. The ground was awash with blood, torn and beaten bodies lying strewn everywhere. As he stared, watching the unstoppable waves upon waves of golden constructs crashing through the homes of the humans, killing all they saw, even Prince Nuada's heart grew heavy.

"What loss the world must endure," he sighed, "What pain and death must our lives be filled with before all is well and safe, as I have never known it to be?" _But in those few moments with her._ Moments he longed to return to.

A high scream pierced the thick air, and the prince looked up sharply from his thoughts to see the two he had half-hoped not to: Elatha crouched in the shadow of one blazing roundhouse, hunched over his human bride, trying to shield her from the notice of the army. But the constructs were not so fallible, and one of the golden leviathans paused, seeing the golden haired warrior.

"Elatha, my old friend," Nuada sighed, and as he watched the metal titan approach the two crouched by the burning wood, his expression grew hard again, "You brought this upon yourself."

No pity could the prince find in his heart as he saw Elatha flung across the ground to land with a resounding snap in the bloody soil. He did not stir, and so never saw the construct run Siobhan through with the blade serving as its hand. She shuddered, flailing aimlessly for a long moment before it sent her flying too, into the flames behind her. Nuada did wince at the sound of her screams.

Meanwhile, Elatha did eventually move, or try to, but his attempts to raise himself failed utterly, and with a cry of pain he fell back, his expression one of grief as he realised he could not help Siobhan. Then he saw the glimmer of gold to his right, across the valley, and he turned his head in confusion in time to see Prince Nuada looking back at him coldly.

"Farewell, _old friend_," the prince bade Elatha, turning away just before the member of the Golden Army advanced on the 'treacherous' warrior and killed him, too.

As he returned to the forest, walking through those familiar leaves, Nuada's feet felt heavy, every step dragged beneath him. He could remember all of those times with Elatha, fighting among the trees with fallen twigs, the fairies wheeling around them joyously in the air. Where had all of the happiness gone? Why did everything have to end in death? He saw then, too late, that Elatha had only ever been a loyal friend, never seeking to harm the Elvish land, only ever wishing for happiness with the one he loved. What right had Nuada to choose such a thing?

"None," he whispered, stumbling to a halt and sliding down to the ground against a tree, hiding his face in his hands and groaning from the unfamiliar weight of sadness settling upon him, "What have I _done_?" the prince gasped, but no answer came, only the gentle sighing of the trees in the wind.

No rage filling him as it had with the attacks on his sister, only a terrible feeling of grief and loss, Nuada stood once more, feeling as if even that action were nearly impossible. He did not know how to handle the pain he felt, he could not understand that the emotion tearing at him from inside was guilt.

Wandering among the trees with no thought of his destination the prince felt like a child once again, lost and very much alone, with no friends, no one to care for him at all. How rarely his father had been to visit him, seeing him only enough to instil the pride of royalty within him, to teach him the ways of a prince. That pride had been the cause for the end of Elatha's life, and finally he knew that.

Even the scenes of the human deaths tormented his mind as he walked, subconsciously returning to his chambers, to Nuala. Something about those recent and very new moments with her had made him vulnerable. Nuada could feel everything he had been able to ignore before, but the need for revenge still ate away at his being just as the guilt did. He could feel the sadness of losing the species of humanity, but he could not feel remorse for it. As far as he was concerned, the humans had to die for the world to return to the happiness he had never known.

Just as silently as he had left, the prince returned to the room through the window space, seeing that sleep had indeed taken Nuala and she lay in oblivious, peaceful repose upon his bed. Once more tears stung in Nuada's eyes as he watched the princess and he slipped out of his boots, pulling off his tunic, too.

The prince could hardly keep his movements steady as he lay down behind Nuala, almost tentatively putting his arms around her and feeling her sigh softly, whispering his name without any of the condemnation he had half-expected her to.

"I wish I could always wake in your arms," Nuala sighed, allowing her senses to slowly come alive. She could feel his body, warm against hers, his right arm resting over her left side, his hand tracing through her hair.

"I intend that you shall," came the quiet response, "Regardless of everything our f…King Balor tries to do to stop us."

"What is there left to stop, I wonder?"

"I do not know, but we are too bound by so many things for him to be able to predict how we will evade his laws and his attempts to enforce them," Nuada told her.

"Promise me that I will be here with you tonight and that you will not have left me by the morning," the princess said, a little desperately, after a brief pause, raising herself so she could look at him properly, "Please do not go anywhere, do not leave me."

"I cannot promise what I do not know," the prince sighed, and when he saw the disappointment evident in Nuala's eyes, he frowned, "Would you have me lie?" he demanded sharply, and the princess shook her head hastily, putting a finger over his lips.

"No. I understand," she told him, "It was an unfair thing to ask of you," as she spoke, her hand paused in its movement through his hair, and she glanced back into his eyes in confusion.

"What's wrong?"

"Are these scars?" the princess asked softly, seeing several curved black lines on his right temple, reaching out like ripples of water from his hairline.

"No," Nuada told her, "They have always been there."

"Then we do not share everything," Nuala whispered, leaning down and kissing the natural pattern, "It is beautiful."

"You made me break a promise to myself," Nuada smiled suddenly, though his eyes continued to hold inexplicable sadness, and the princess looked at him in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"Before," he answered absently, pausing to kiss her shoulder and apparently far more occupied with tracing patterns over her back than speaking, "Before we met, I made a promise that I would never trust anyone but myself; I am a warrior, I was alone. You made me break that promise, because I trust you – I must trust you – and I have put all of my trust in you…my life is in your hands."

They paused a moment then, staring into each other's eyes, her right hand linked with his left. His honesty amazed Nuala, and she felt she had to show that to him before their conversation could continue. After a moment, she remembered their first words to each other – his suggestion of her rank, and her teasing of his being a warrior. Slowly, the unfamiliar light of mischief showed in her expression.

"Trust? Brave words for a warrior," the princess remarked, laughing when he bit playfully at her shoulder in retaliation and pulled her back against him, kissing every inch of skin he could reach, "Is this my punishment?" Nuala asked softly, turning her head to the left in order to once more look up into his eyes.

"Oh, it is only just beginning," the prince promised, turning her over onto her back and once more resting above her, kissing her until they were both too breathless to continue. However, as his lips moved from hers to kiss her neck and began to move down further, she sensed something was wrong in his thoughts.

"Something…happened when you left me," Nuala whispered in horror, and instantly the prince stilled, snatching his hand from hers too late and sitting up, turning away as she spoke again, "Elatha…and his bride. Oh no, no! All that destruction and all that pain! The world will not bear it. Nature will despair…the Elves will fade." _This Golden Army must be stopped. It should never have been made._

The prince could hear his sister's sobs, feel her shudders as she leaned her forehead against his back, tears streaking over his skin. She looked up, however, when she felt his breath catch, too. Swiftly taking his left hand firmly in hers before he could pull away again, she felt his misery and guilt, his anguish over Elatha's death and the memories of those carefree times as children, playing among the trees. Nuala could sense his loneliness and his feelings that she would never forgive him for allowing his old friend's death.

"No creature can do everything," the princess whispered softly, putting her arms around him and kissing his cheek, pulling him back down onto the bed with her, "You could not have saved him against such endless horrors. You could never have killed him," she added after a moment, though she did not truly believe those words. It occurred to her that he could only feel remorse after the mistakes had all been made.

"If I had not driven him away he would be alive now. We could have given him shelter in the forest, instead of condemning him to the doomed settlement," Nuada sighed, his voice broken as his grief washed through him like an unstoppable tide so that he turned around in the princess's arms, hiding his face against her, "You make me vulnerable. You make me feel where I never could before."

"Then that is a good thing, for it proves to me that you do not have the cruellest of all hearts, far from it," Nuala smiled, confused that she could find such peace from that thought considering what had just happened, "And you are not alone. I will always be in you, as I promised, you will always know undoubtedly that I love you, I promise it on my very life," and all she could do was hold onto him tightly as his body began to shake with grief, as the agony of loss took him over and he began to understand what it felt like for one's heart to break.


	12. The Price of Peace

**The Price of Peace**

Not long after the destruction of the human settlement, some way to the south of the Central Forest the ground began to shake under two clashing armies. Countless Elvish and human warriors alike lay dead on the blood-darkened grass and yet on and on they fought, matched in numbers.

Rain was falling once more, pouring from the heavens with a terrible fury this time, its roar drowning out the dying screams of desperate combatants. Close to the east, the sea roiled against the steep cliff walls separating it from the battle, its once white foam crashing against the rock in a crimson spray as the water gradually darkened with blood.

Still, when the ground continued to shake, many stumbled in surprise and the fighting ceased. For a moment, panicked expressions showed on the humans' faces, but when the Elves began to retreat, those looks changed to ones of amazement, relief and victory. A great cheer rose up over the continuing downpour and agonised screams…but the moments of misplaced glory were short-lived, very literally.

For as the Elves retreated, countless monstrous forms took their places, skull-shaped golden faces glaring down with glowing red eyes upon the comparatively tiny humans. When the constructs unsheathed the massive blades concealed upon their arms, chaos erupted among the ranks of the humans. Warriors sought only escape, not to fight, and yet on the Golden Army poured, trampling and tearing apart all of the humans around them.

Soon the ground ran red with blood, rainwater stained as soon as it touched the ground to run in torrents around the desperate and dying humans. Not a single one of those warriors was left alive, covering the ground with a blanket of icy death. Yet on the Golden Army fought, destroying every human army that could be mustered against them seeking to destroy this new threat to humanity awaiting them patiently, heartlessly, on the plains beyond the Central Forest.

Days went by, and King Balor watched the slaughter in dismay, physically far removed from the conflict on a high, tree-shrouded hill. Yet the scenes of death were plain for him to see, and his conscience could not take the idea of destroying a whole species out of pride, out of the need to remain the dominant force in the world.

Finally, on the fourth day after the unleashing of the Golden Army, staring upon the deaths with grieving eyes, King Balor cried out in anguish, falling to his knees and tearing the Golden Crown from his head. Turning to his equally despondent advisors, seeing their shoulders slumped with the weight of the endless agonies they had caused, he tore the crown into its three component pieces: the two halves of the headpiece itself and the central crest, emblazoned with the royal seal of Elfland.

"I renounce my right to this Golden Army!" he cried, "From this day forward I will wage no more war. Perhaps it is time we realised the Elves' time is over and the humans have already usurped us. A truce must be called. I can take this no longer."

Immediately, the rumble of the Golden Army's movements ceased and they stood lifeless once more, their bodies no longer aglow with deep red light. A cheer went up among the Elves as surely as it did among the humans, and each side raised a white flag of truce.

A short while later, the Elvish messenger sent out to call for that truce among the humans returned, announcing that the hour for the meeting of those two armies' leaders would be the next dawn. At the news, King Balor felt the weight of sadness lifted from his shoulders and he could stand once more, a smile touching his face as he looked towards the distant trees of the Central Forest to see one fragile, pale figure standing out among the emerald leaves. She was blatantly ignoring the rules he had set out for her, but as her father he instantly forgave her.

"Nuala, my daughter, as always you were right," he sighed.

Watching the sight of the truce, both father and daughter knew their relief and joy at the news of the peace with humanity would not be so kindly looked upon by Prince Nuada. And so it was with some relief that they both knew he was not watching, for his wrath upon the news would be as untameable as it would be wild.

* * *

The hours following the truce had been the first ones of true happiness and peace that Nuala had ever felt, she realised. Some time ago the sun had set, and she remained oblivious to the time, once more in the prince's arms, linked both mentally and physically once more. Such a thing as time seemed utterly inconsequential to them in those moments; no thoughts mattered but those of love towards each other…

She might have screamed, or laughed, sobbed or just cried out. Nuala could not tell because every emotion in her body seemed to have multiplied many times over. The intensity of her love for him, mixed with the absolute ecstasy she was feeling, was almost unbearable.

Just the feel of his body against hers had set her senses on fire. But this…these times of passion were so much more. So many precious times he had captured her lips with his…but she wanted him more and more.

"This is insane," she gasped as he rolled onto his back beside her, one arm resting across her stomach.

"I know," he laughed softly, and at the sound, Nuala moved closer, resting her head against the side of his, feeling his hair caressing her cheeks and finally seeing that the world was no longer illuminated by the sun. At the sight of the gentle moonlight the princess smiled, kissing Nuada almost reflexively.

"Why do you feel so good if the world is against this?" she asked softly, beginning to wish she had not been released from the illusion of having no time, "If we have eternity, why does every moment with you feel stolen somehow, as if I am soon to expect some form of retribution? As if soon you will be gone from me and I will never be able to regain you?"

"That will never be the case," the prince told her fiercely, "And perhaps Nature is not against _us_," he murmured, "This cannot be wrong. It feels too right."

* * *

"Where is the princess?" King Balor demanded nervously, glaring across the silver-and-gold-tinted throne room at his Elvish guards, who glanced at each other quickly before deciding to speak.

"We…cannot…find her, sire," one said eventually, his tone suggesting that he was just as confused as his king.

"You checked her chambers?" Balor's tone was anxious – it was not long before the dawn, and there was much he needed to discuss with his daughter before that time and so the consequent arrival of the humans.

"Yes, my lord."

"Then where would she at this hour of the morning? She has been forbidden to leave the palace! And besides, not even Nuala would ever leave for the forest so early…" the king paused, his eyes going wide, "The prince! Have you gone for the prince, as well?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Then where is he?"

"We…do not know. He is not answering the door if he is in his chambers."

The king's expression darkened and he stood from his throne angrily. For a moment, he looked like he might storm out of the throne room to summon his children himself, but then paused and sighed.

"Try to summon the prince another time. He is in that room, I am almost certain, but if not, then check for him at the practice chambers."

"And the princess, my lord?"

"She is with him, either way."

* * *

"King Balor commands that you open this door!" the guards called insistently, "He must see you in the throne room immediately!"

For the first time in her life, Nuala actually _wanted_ to go against her father's orders. She pulled the prince closer against her, and as they continued to kiss slowly, Nuada seemed totally oblivious to the guards outside.

"They know," the princess noted unhappily when they finally parted.

"Perhaps," Nuada shrugged, running a hand over her cheek, "But probably not. They know you are not in your chambers, but what's to say you have not gone into the forest? That would be an understandable breach of the king's rules for you. Father does not know for sure that you are with me, though he may suspect…" his words were muffled by the hammering at the door.

"Would you be able to delay them?" Nuala could not help asking of him, a little desperately.

"Only for as long as it takes for them to get to the throne room and back," the prince sighed, starting to move back, then glanced behind himself, running a hand over one of Nuala's legs, "I am afraid you will have to let go if I am to get up," he observed with a smile.

Even so, it took a moment for the princess to comply. Nuada stood quickly, calling to the guards that he was on his way as he dressed swiftly, leaving his tunic, and paused there for a moment, staring down thoughtfully at the pile of silken cloth that was the twins' clothes. Nuala could not see what he was looking at, and did not dare ask lest the guards hear her voice.

The prince had the prudence to pull shut the curtain that separated the bed from the rest of the room, and only then, knowing the princess could not see him, did he move across the room and pick up his spear from its place by the door. As he opened the wooden portal, he was careful to hold the weapon out to the side, making sure the guards did not see.

"What do you want?" he asked of the two fully armoured men standing in front of him. He could not even see their eyes. Still, he was not going to let them in the room.

"My lord! King Balor has summoned you to his throne room. He apologises for the early hour, but says it is an important matter of the realm."

The prince paused then. Knowing his father, this was probably just an update on the numbers of wounded. It could be something more pressing, however. He decided to let Nuala choose.

"I will…be there soon."

"My lord, we are to wait here until you can come with us…"

"You will do no such thing," the prince lowered his voice as he spoke, becoming suddenly menacing, his eyes cold, "You will go back to the throne room."

The two guards froze where they stood for a moment, then turned around and were gone from sight down the corridor. Instantly, the prince put down the spear, shutting the door as he did so. A moment later, the curtains around the bed were drawn back.

"What did they say?"

"That…King Balor required us in the throne room immediately."

At this news, Nuala did not look pleased at all, the serenity of her expression replaced by something akin to fear and disappointment, "Then…must we go?" she asked quietly, sitting on the side of the bed.

"I would say we must, yes," the prince nodded, stopping his advance once he stood in front of her, "But I would also say let's not."

"Then we shall go soon," Nuala sighed as the prince moved closer.

"I fear so, yes," he whispered softly, beginning to kiss her again as they fell back onto the bed, "Oh…I almost forgot," the prince added softly with a smile, glancing back in the direction of their clothes, "The fairies thought ahead for us. They have left you a new dress to replace the one I ruined – again."

* * *

The king paced back and forth furiously, his expression harsh. His guards remained impassive and silent, standing to rigid attention by his throne and along the walls. No one other than the monarch dared to move, hardly seeming even to breathe.

So it was that the distant echo of hurried, light steps could be heard clearly long before the one who approached came anywhere within the throne room. A gentle, urgent voice spoke briefly, followed by the clang as the guards stepped aside.

Despite this, the princess materialised from the darkness of the open doorway with her usual grace and elegance. Her dress was pure white, with a high, ruffled neck, her long, flared sleeves reaching well past her hands. Everything about her seemed perfect; distant just as she had always been.

"Father," Nuala murmured quietly, bowing her head, remaining on the top step by the doors, "I give my humblest apologies for the lateness of my arrival prior to your summons."

As she looked up, her cinnamon eyes held genuine worry – as ever, she feared for her homeland. At the sight of his beloved daughter, much of the king's anger thawed, and he ceased his pacing, taking his place once more on his throne.

"Do not fear, daughter," he smiled, "You only just heard, I do not doubt. This is news at which you shall rejoice, not despair!"

"What news?" all eyes turned to the new speaker, so no one noticed the princess bow her head as she heard that voice.

As his eyes focused on the prince, who had stepped past Nuala into the hall, King Balor's expression darkened again. Some of that look was clearly worry. Something had changed drastically.

"Pray tell me," the king's tone was sarcastic now, "What delayed you so long?"

The prince's eyes flashed angrily, "I took it upon myself to inform the princess."

"That was not what I commanded you to do!" King Balor's posture was rigid now, his hands gripping the throne tightly, his eyes just as angry, his expression just as proud, as his son's.

"I know where she was…did you?" Nuada smiled slightly when his father ignored the words. He suspected the king's answer would be more of an unwilling yes than an instant no.

"Father," the princess spoke this time, her voice bringing calm to the throne room as she finally descended the steps, "What news do you have for us at this early hour?"

"The Golden Army should be well on its way to ridding us of the human threat," the prince cut in, and Nuala winced at the reference, dreading how he would respond to the news of the truce.

"This is why I have called you here. You know how I felt about the army…"

"Felt?" the prince's tone was suspicious, "And yes I know…you were as hopeful regarding the matter as I was."

"No, my son, I certainly was not. We have…broken up the crown, deactivated the army. The leader of the humans' army is on his way now to discuss the terms of our coming peace treaty."

The prince froze upon hearing these words, his eyes once again flashing with anger, but it was Nuala who spoke first, her emotions the total opposites of her brother's.

"It is so good to hear you speak those words!" she smiled, running to her father as he stood to embrace her, relief evident on his face at her glad reaction.

When Nuala stepped back, turning to regard the prince, the warrior's expression made a chill run through her heart. His eyes were fixed on her, though he appeared to be looking down, his hands balled into fists. Instantly, all of the princess's gladness upon hearing those words she had always hoped to hear and dreaded never to washed away. Nuada's thoughts were chaotic with anger, and his sister could only just make out that he had some form of intentions regarding the news. What his actions would be, she could not guess.

The Chamberlain's voice cut through the uncomfortable silence that had fallen, and the tall, red and black robed creature appeared in the gateway, several much smaller figures following behind him.

"King Balor, may I present to you the human king, Fionn and his…wife, Maeve," the strange creature pronounced, and Princess Nuala jumped in surprise at the familiar name as she took a place to her father's right. She glanced nervously across the throne as her father stood, in time to see Nuada looking away from her, visibly shaking with fury.

The Chamberlain stepped aside to allow the two humans into the throne room before following, the creature's presence necessary as a translator. To the Elves watching, nothing could have appeared more unimaginable than two unarmed, uncontested humans walking towards the king. They stopped in the expected place – the ends of the stands. Only the king's children were allowed by custom beyond that point, and even then only during ceremonies.

Nuala felt her blood run cold as she stared, transfixed by automatic fear, at the human king, Fionn. She recognised him as the blonde man who had called to Maeve when first the princess had met the human woman. This time, however, he was arrayed in heavy human armour, with gauntlets and boots of metal, though these heavy items appeared to be of a more ceremonial than practical nature. His tunic was of padded leather, his dull blonde hair pulled back into a short ponytail and new cuts and scars showed plainly on his tanned face.

Fionn's pale eyes were cold, showing no emotions at all as his gaze was held and locked by a far more menacing one. He did not waver in those long moments it took for the Chamberlain to approach and stop. Nuala knew undoubtedly that if Fionn was trying to stare down Prince Nuada his attempt was destined to fail. The Elf prince would not look away from the human king for one single second of the meeting.

"Nuala, look away from him," Nuada bade her softly, holding up a hand to stop the Chamberlain translating the words, though the creature made no move to do so anyway.

"I…"

"You will look away from him, my l…" here he paused, suppressing a growl of anger towards his father's rules before correcting his words, "_Sister_. And I will kill him if he takes so much as half a step towards you."

Between the twins, King Balor sighed wearily, not liking the way his son had succeeded in increasing the tension in the room even further – not only by attempting to intimidate the human king, but also by very nearly admitting to feelings for Nuala that were strictly forbidden. Balor could not help but notice the symmetry in the situation, however much he wished to avoid thoughts of his children's feelings for each other. For Prince Nuada was automatically seeking to protect his sister from the perceived threat of Fionn. However, the Elvish prince could not physically move to comfort Nuala as Fionn did for Maeve; the human king had subconsciously shifted himself to block Nuada from the queen.

Slowly, Nuala did obey the prince's command, tearing her gaze from Fionn to instead regard Maeve, and she felt herself smile at the sight of the only human who had ever shown her kindness. The woman looked almost as nervous and frightened as the princess felt, standing there – fairly cowering in fact – a little behind Fionn. Her hair looked cleaner, hanging in loose curls down to her elbows, her long dress of a deep – and yet still dull – red.

Despite all of her new, comparative finery, Maeve's expression looked like that of one who is haunted by the past, and the long horizontal scar across her neck attested to this. She was staring in undisguised awe at the splendour of the Elvish throne room, but Nuala noticed how the woman started in fear when her gaze fell upon the prince. Instantly Maeve looked away from him, paling obviously, one hand flying up to touch the scar on her throat.

"So," King Balor said eventually, nodding in the direction of the Chamberlain to signify that he wished the creature to begin translating, "Here we are finally at peace. After all these years, we are weary of war, as I am sure you are. I greet you, King Fionn, most warmly."

"I thank you, King Balor," the Chamberlain translated for the human man after relaying the Elf's words, "This war has brought me to this position, and it is one I would much rather relinquish to the original holder of my title, though he is now dead, slain at the hands of your constructs."

"Yes, and it is because of that very slaughter that we have called a truce with your world. As proof of my honesty, I give to you a piece of the Golden Crown of Bethmora, something that, once whole, could be used to control the Golden Army that so ravaged your species."

As soon as the piece was handed over to Fionn by one of the Chimera guards now favoured by the king, Nuala felt such fury erupt in her brother's mind that it affected her, too. Her vision blurred, and for a moment she was overcome with a great weakness, quiet the opposite of Nuada, who could barely control himself enough not to leap for the human king.

"And the treaty? What terms do you wish to make?" Fionn asked, once more by way of the Chamberlain.

"I ask only that we, the Elves, be permitted our forests, while you and your kind keep to the land," King Balor announced, and once the Chamberlain had told this to the humans Fionn nodded in acceptance.

Instantly, Balor stood from his throne, a smile of clear gladness on his face, and approached the human king, shaking his hand firmly, and a cheer rose up among the Elves. Prince Nuada remained silent, his eyes still fixed furiously upon Fionn. It was not long after this when the time came for the humans to leave, but first Maeve paused, looking back at Nuala and speaking with clear warmth. The princess heard her own name spoken in the sentence, but looked to the Chamberlain.

"The human queen hopes _Princess _Nuala will remain forever well," the creature translated eventually, and the Elvish princess smiled brightly upon hearing the words.

"I bid the same to her," Nuala told the Chamberlain, and once those words were relayed, Maeve returned the princess's smile, the look lasting only as long as it took for Fionn to take his queen by the arm and lead her from the room, no doubt intimidated by the prince's continuing glare.

As soon as the humans had departed, Balor sighed with great relief, returning to his throne and looking with a finally peaceful expression towards his daughter,

"There are two more pieces left of the crown," the king told Nuala, "The first I will keep for myself, and the second I entrust to you. It is my express wish that the crown will never be made whole again. The Golden Army must never return," he added significantly as his daughter nodded in acceptance, though truly the weight of such responsibility weighed heavily upon her as she thought of her brother even as Balor turned towards the prince, his expression far from kind, "And you, Nuada, very nearly betrayed us all with your pride. Had Fionn felt truly threatened by you, he may well have refused to agree with the treaty!"

"And for that I would have rejoiced! What you have done here is suicide," the prince growled, and Balor sighed, sitting back in his throne wearily.

"I knew you would not be as glad as your sister. But you can do nothing in regards to this matter, my son. It is settled; you know that. The Golden Army can never reawaken. You have seen the horrors it wrought, and not even one so bent upon revenge as you are would deign to use such monsters to fulfil your wishes. And I swear to you that if you ever break the treaty with the humans you will pay dearly for it."

Upon hearing those words, the prince's expression darkened further, and then he straightened, tilting his chin proudly,

"Then I will leave this court and this land," he proclaimed, not even flinching when Nuala gasped in horror, "And I will not return until the time when my people need me the most. Even if that be three thousand years and more!"

With that, Prince Nuada turned his back on the court, and on his father, and was gone from the room. He took up his spear and swords from their place outside, by the door, and paused. Never for a second did his resolve falter, but for a moment he considered thoughts of becoming the first usurper in the history of the kingdom. Then his sister's voice calling his name destroyed those thoughts, and he once more headed for the forest.

"No!" Nuala cried desperately, all thoughts of gladness gone as she departed the throne room, in search of her brother.

"You must not allow her to go with him," the king decreed to his guards, his voice flat with the weight of disappointment.

* * *

"No! Please!" Nuala cried as she finally reached the prince. He was standing at the point in the palace gardens where the grass-covered ground sloped gently towards the dark majesty of the trees. He did not turn to face her, just continued to stare steadfastly ahead. His course was set; he would not go back on his decision.

"I must go. Our world is doomed, if we are to hand over our land to the humans."

"But we have not done so!" Nuala paused, reaching out to touch his shoulder, her hand wavering close to him before actually making the contact, "We still have the forests, while they have the land…"

"When the world could have remained ours! No, I must go," his resolve was absolute.

"Then let me come with you. I cannot bear the thought of harm coming to you…when we are apart especially," Nuala's words were stopped when the prince spun around suddenly, kissing her hard, almost lifting her off the ground.

"You can't," he whispered softly, running a hand over her hair, staring deep into her eyes because they both knew they would not see each other again for many years.

"Why? Isn't it safer for both of us?"

"You should not feel you have to live in exile. Stay here, live well…never forget me. I will never forget you."

"Please," Nuala murmured as their lips met again – this time more gently, lingering desperately.

"I will return," Nuada vowed, turning away. He did not look back as he reached the bottom of the slope, pausing once before melting into the trees.

Nuala stared after him, gasping, icy tears streaking down her face, and remained that way as the sun set and later as it rose again. She did not hear the arrival of the king's guards to stop her from leaving the palace grounds, and she would have cared little if she had known. She felt lost and confused, left so suddenly and lastingly alone.

As if from far away, not knowing how much time had passed since the prince's departure, Nuala was aware of her father pleading with her, trying to make her turn around, to return to the palace, to her rooms, anything but stay out there in the freezing cold day and night, unmoving. When he took her shoulders and attempted to turn her around, she simply collapsed, never looking away from the trees and soon was left alone again.

Not long after her fall, the need to sleep overcame her will, and darkness did return. She became dimly aware of the fairies humming around her even as she dreamed, always thinking of the prince, always, always...

Slowly consciousness returned after what felt like an eternity of sleep, and with it came the unwelcome feeling of the cold rain pattering all around the princess, trickling over her skin. Where was the sun? Where had all the warmth gone? The sky was purely black, with no light to be found anywhere, save for the gentle twinkling of the fairies' wings humming around her.

Low voices sounded from nearby, and the princess turned over slowly, unwillingly, her limbs feeling painfully heavy, to see the king surrounded by several nervous advisors – no doubt discussing the self-imposed exile of the prince. They already knew his word was absolute; he was not going to return for a very, very long time.

"Gone," Nuala gasped, and a wave of sickness shuddered through her. Surprised by the feeling, the princess of the Elves turned her face back towards the trees, suddenly finding that she needed the coolness of the wet grass against her cheek.

"My lady!" one of the fairies cried, and she looked up in surprise to see one of the tiny creatures hovering over her stomach, pointing down urgently.

"What…" her words were stopped when a second fairy pressed her lips closed, while the first signalled for her to stay silent.

"Please, my lady…they must not know," it whispered significantly, pointing to her hand, indicating that she should use that part of her nature to understand what they were trying to tell her.

Her heart pounding, already beginning to comprehend what they were trying to tell her, Nuala brought a hand to the area just below her stomach, and closed her eyes, concentrating…there it was! No movement, no emotions, just a feeling of changing, of growing, of _coming alive_.

The princess gasped in amazement, sitting up suddenly and feeling tears streaming from her eyes. _A child_! So rare among the Elves, ordinarily so treasured…and yet she understood the fairies' need for discretion and secrecy, for this particular new life would not be looked upon favourably by the king considering its forbidden parentage. The thought of this brought on fresh waves of despair, and then Nuala cried out with the pain of it, scrambling to her feet as the advisors looked around sharply, surprised.

"Father," she sobbed, "Why did he do it? Why would he ever do _that_ to me? How could he leave?"

Nuala awaited no response, but fled from the sight of the other Elves, seeking the one place she felt could comfort her. No one but the fairies followed her, chattering anxiously amongst themselves until she reached the door of the prince's chambers. They did not follow the princess as she flung open the portal and stepped inside, bolting it behind herself, but they could hear her cries all too clearly.

No clear thoughts would come to Nuala's mind as she stumbled, half blinded by tears, across the room. Fresh tears fell when she saw her most recent broken dress – for it was in fact the second of its kind – folded neatly upon the covers. The lacing was gone; she had the distinct impression of it having been fastened together, of being tied…of being taken with _him_.

"I am always with you," she whispered with a smile through her grief as she curled up on the bed, her hand resting over the area she knew the child was growing within her, "As you are always with me."


	13. Outro: Repercussions

**Repercussions**

Three months had passed since the departure of the prince when, one night, Princess Nuala awoke suddenly, gasping for breath and finding that the air felt thick, too heavy, pressing on her labouring lungs like solid stone. Groping for anything and nothing in the darkness the princess stood slowly from Nuada's bed, though the very idea pained her. She felt at once too hot and too cold, shivering and shivering; yet her skin felt aflame, her joints ached with dull, throbbing pain. And something was burning inside her, she could feel it writhing inside her, a little lower than her stomach…Nervously Nuala brought her hands over the area, and was at once filled with an overwhelming sense of fear and agony.

"No!" the princess sobbed, hardly aware that she was walking, leaving the room, turning towards the forest, beginning to cross over the palace grounds, oblivious to the alarmed looks she received, "No," the child was the closest thing to the prince that she had, and something was wrong. No amount of denial could stop the fact that the baby was already dying.

When the princess fell, her blood already staining her skirts and the ground, the healers were already at hand to come to her. Yet they could do nothing, and no one could console her. The baby was dead, barely formed at all…

So it was that a great blank fell upon Princess Nuala's life. She lived and breathed, but it was plain for all to see that her thoughts were forever on the past, dwelling there where it was safer, where the dreams could keep her company in a world where she felt increasingly alone.

Only when the next wave of humans travelled over the sea and sought to burn the trees did Nuala begin to awaken from her strange half-trance, feeling the threat, part of her hoping that this would be the time for the prince's return. Of course it was not, but the brief return to clarity saved her from falling deeper into the well of grief she had built for herself. She began to look to the future once more, to try and ignore the agony that awaited her in her dreams.

Gradually, the numbness began to return to the way it had been before Nuala ever met her brother. Her feelings of longing, loss and agony began to dim, and as years became decades, and decades centuries, those few moments in his arms seemed a far off dream, despite the vividness with which she remembered him. Some nights she would once again seek the comfort of his bed, and others she could endure her feelings without action.

By the dawning of the second millennium since the prince's departure, Nuala found she was learning to again hide behind her mask of no emotions. Though her conviction that Nuada would one day return never wavered, she found a new hope within her…the feeling that one day she would learn to feel, as he had taught her long ago. The hope that perhaps one day she would even learn to love again.


	14. Epilogue: The Prince

"I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!"

Quote, Heathcliff, **_Wuthering Heights _**by Emily Brontë.

The First Prophecy:

_Born into love shall be the child of midnight,_

_Born into death shall be the child of dawn,_

_Love bound and yet forbidden, fated to be broken_

_And so fated to be the ruin of the world._

**Prelude:  
The Prince**

I am the last of my kind. I was brought up for war and all my days I have lived for it. How many lives have I taken? More than she would care to know. I remember every one; I regret none of them. How can I dare regret them? There are so many more to come.

So yes, I am the last of my kind. After the truce, the elves gave up hope, hiding the king and his court below ground I do not doubt, and so the warriors had no need to continue as they were. They are gone now – none are dead, but all are gone. Of course the king's guards are still there – he would not risk living undefended – but they were not of my kind. They were raised to protect, whereas I was, by my very birth, meant to kill and attack and kill…until the day I am myself dead.

Though I speak of death and war, the lack of both of those aspects to my life have not been the chief cause of my pain throughout these two thousand bitter years. I long to see her again. I long to see my beloved sister, Nuala, she who I learned of too late. Our love is irrecoverable, but she was wrong that day by the Golden Army. I am the one who can never pull away, I am the one who can think of loving no other. All other living beings are worthless to me; she casts a shadow upon every one. Her life is precious to me.

I left Nuala out of pride – because I had to. I vanished from knowledge and sight just like she and our father did, but now things are changing. This world has left us behind, spiralling on and on in time on a reckless fall to its destruction. Humanity drives it on, with no balance, no care, just greed and a hollow heart. This cannot go on, they all must die, and I know no other way but the worst of all.

With a heavy heart I realise I am the last of my kind and I can never break away. I can still feel the weakness those men caused, the sickness, the headfirst fall of mine to hatred and revenge. Nothing can turn me from this course, not even the knowledge that Nuala is well and safe. I cannot break away from the need for vengeance; she understands that…

So now I give in, now I embrace all of my anger and all of my pain knowingly, whole-heartedly. Many more deaths await.

We are the last of our kind. I see now what our father meant when he said _'A Seer too caring for her own good and a Warrior too vengeful for his own sanity…together what could you become?' _Only he did not understand the truth of his own words. We could be at peace, even in hiding and broken pride, we would be at peace in love. We, Nuala and I, are the last of our kind. The trees will know no other love like ours…and the world will know no other hatred like mine.


End file.
